


Brand New Ground

by LokiFirefox



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 123,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiFirefox/pseuds/LokiFirefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A change of circumstances forces Blaine Anderson to attend McKinley, a school infamous for its bullying. However Sam Evans finds a unique way to help out his new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This my fic co-written with TheFauxMe that we post on "the other site" that we decided to post here as well. So the first seventeen chapters should be up right away but then you'll have to wait for the rest to follow when we finish writing it.
> 
> I'll be posting her original A/N for each chapter at the end notes of each chapter.
> 
> When she decides to open an account here, proper co-authorship shall be awarded.

William McKinley High loomed over Blaine like a storm cloud, daunting and menacing in ways that an institution of education really shouldn't be. To any passerby, it probably looked harmless enough, perhaps even welcoming. But Blaine knew better, having just watched a nerdy looking boy with frizzy red hair get hoisted up and thrown into a dumpster by a group of boys in red and white letterman jackets.

He shouldered his backpack with a sigh, thrusting his chin upwards. He was a mid-year transfer, about to finish his Junior year inside those public school walls, and he was going to try and make the most of it. Nobody here knew him. He could redefine himself if he wanted to, or at least keep his head down and mouth shut until he graduated, which would hopefully only be in a year's time, assuming his AP classes went well.

He started the walk up the front path with confidence, but not too much, just enough to blend in with the crowd. He breathed easier after he'd evaded the jocks, making his way to the administration office to get his class schedule and locker assignation. On the way to his locker, he saw sign up sheets for mid-year sports and hesitated, considering trying out for the lacrosse team at a session that would be held after school that day. He was good at the sport, and it might help him to make some 'socially acceptable' friends. He might survive this public high school thing yet.

Signing his name with a flourish, he continued on, finding his locker and stuffing his books inside it haphazardly. His first class of the day was AP English, and, judging by the crudely sketched map in his hand, it was on the other side of the school. He grabbed a notebook and a pen, slamming the locker shut and speed-walking through hallways, not meeting anyone's eyes, just hoping to get through his first day unscathed.

And his technique was working, too, up until try-outs for lacrosse.

"Anderson!" Coach Beiste--a beefy, intimidating woman--barked. "You're up! Show me what you can do."

And he did, showing off all the skills he'd learned from his years on the team at Dalton, knowing that he was rather impressive on the field. The whistle blew, signalling the end of his run, and he jogged back over to the try-out bench. Coach Beiste clamped her hand on his shoulder as he came off the field, giving him a strong squeeze.

"You did good, kid," she told him, smirking. "Unofficially, I'd say there's a good chance you'll be on the team."

He beamed at her, pushing a sweaty bit of hair back off his forehead. "Thanks, Coach."

When he turned back to face the others on the bench, a few offered him their fists to bump and he complied happily. Then a surprised voice sounded behind him.

"Blaine?"

Blaine turned to face whoever had spoken, and he found himself face to face with a tall, blond muscular boy. "Uh...Sam?" He asked, a little unsure on the guy's name as it had been a while since he'd seen him around, and they'd run in completely different social circles to start with.

Sam nodded and stepped closer, smiling at the blast from his past. "Wow. Blaine Anderson. What are  _you_ doing at McKinley? You were kind of the poster boy for Dalton."

Blaine shrugged. "Things change," he said simply, not wanting to alert anyone at the school about the soap opera that had become his life. "What about you?"

The blond's cheeks flushed a little. "Dad's company went under, tuition was pricey..." Most of the other students at McKinley knew his story, so it wasn't as though he had anything to hide. He extended his arms and did a slow spin. "So here I am."

"You guys know each other?" A guy with a mohawk asked Sam, despite the fact that Blaine thought the answer was pretty obvious.

The blond, however, just smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Blaine and I went to school together at Dalton until I left last year. But we were in different classes and stuff anyway."

"Cool," the other boy responded, before looking Blaine up and down, almost dismissively. "You were pretty good out on the field."

"Thanks."

The guy with the mohawk stuck his hand out. "Puck."

"Puck?" Blaine repeated, shaking the other boy's hand firmly. "Like...hockey?" Because there was no way this guy was named after a playful Shakespearian sprite. He was all muscle, from what Blaine could see, and looked like 'Trouble' should be his middle name. Just the sort of guy Blaine should be avoiding, not stopping to ponder whether he'd be even slightly bi-curious.

Puck laughed, a short barking sort of sound. "Ah, no. Last name is Puckerman, so I go by Puck for short."

"Because your given name--"

"Dude," Sam cut in, "don't go there. Puck's just Puck. It's the way it is."

Puck clapped Sam on the shoulder. "See, Evans, you  _can_ be cool. I don't get why you want to hang around losers all day."

"Because they're also my friends, dumbass," the blond replied with a roll of his eyes, like this was a frequent topic of conversation. "And I have things in common with them."

"Singing and dancing, Sam. Not cool. And don't get me started on the wheelchair kid."

"C'mon, man, leave Artie alone. He's funny. And he likes the same comics and tv shows as me."

Whatever Puck was going to say next was interrupted by the line of cheerleaders that strode past them, dressed identically, their high pony-tails and tiny skirts swishing almost in sync. The jock wolf-whistled after them. "Lookin' good, ladies." He nodded at one blonde in particular. "Baby Mama."

She flipped him the bird, not sparing them a second glance.

Blaine blinked as she stalked off, her head held high. "Baby Mama?"

Puck shrugged, though his nonchalance seemed forced now. "I knocked Quinn up Sophomore year."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that.

Sam came to the rescue, or, at least, tried to. He slung his arm around Blaine's shoulders. "Not like that'll ever be a problem for you, right?"

Blaine winced. He wasn't planning on coming out at McKinley. He hadn't been planning on being closeted either, exactly, but keeping a low profile after everything he'd been through seemed like a good plan. He'd even left his bowties at home when he'd dressed that morning, concerned that they'd draw too much attention. Thankfully, Puck and the other jocks around them were slow on the uptake.

"What's that mean?" Puck asked, sounding almost sympathetic. "Your junk doesn't work?"

"Actually, yeah," Blaine said, ignoring the way the arm across his shoulders tensed, refusing to look in Sam's direction. "There was an incident. I shoot blanks."  _Wow_. He'd been at the school less than an entire day and he was lying.  _Great_. He felt awful, never having been the kind of person to be anything but honest and proud of who he was. Then again, a lot of things had changed recently.

" _Blaine_..." Sam said, sounding confused.

"So, yeah," Blaine continued shrugging, cutting the blond off hurriedly and disentangling himself from his one-armed embrace. "I don't, uh, talk about it, y'know? And I'm gonna go hit the showers. So, yeah, I'll see you around."

"Blaine, wait up!" Sam was following him at a slow jog, catching up quickly. "Dude, what the hell?"

Opting to play dumb, Blaine looked sideways at the other boy. "What?"

"You just lied back there," Sam looked affronted, as though the action had personally offended him.

Blaine felt his frustration bubbling. He didn't know why Sam was taking a little white lie so personally. Stopping just outside the entrance to the locker room, he glared at the blond. "So? What's your problem?"

"It's just..." Sam floundered for an adequate explanation. "You were different at Dalton. Out and proud.  _That,_ " he pointed back towards the field, where try outs were still happening, "wasn't the Blaine Anderson I knew."

"Newsflash, Sam," Blaine spat, "you  _didn't_ know me. We maybe had one class together. And I don't think I ever said anything other than 'hello' to you before today."

"That's 'cause you were intimidating, man. You were like a rock star at Dalton. Captain of the Warblers, Co-Captain of the lacrosse team, First Chair on the debate team...and you were a Sophomore! You were so  _confident_  and popular and I was a dyslexic nerd." Sam shook his head. "I wanted to  _be_ you. So, when I came here, I reinvented myself a little."

Blaine was sort of taken by surprise, flattered that this athletic, attractive guy had thought so highly of him. But then he remembered the rest of their conversation and frowned. "Well, things change." He reiterated. "And I'm taking the opportunity to reinvent myself a little, too."

Sam's brow furrowed, suddenly piecing the puzzle together, coming to the conclusion that Blaine's family must be going through similar financial strife to what his own had the year prior. He still didn't understand the other boy's firm stance against being himself, though. "Dude, I know how you're feeling right now. But, believe me, McKinley's not that bad. I mean, Unique and Kurt get by." He shrugged, forgetting that Blaine was new and had no idea who he was talking about. "Once you settle in, everything will be great, I promise. Pretending to be someone you're not...that's not going to make things easier, even if for some strange reason you think it will."

"I appreciate the advice, Sam. And I'm not pretending anything. Just drop it, okay?"

"But--"

"What are you guys still doin' out here?" Puck asked as he trotted over, looking directly at Blaine. "I thought you were going to shower?"

Blaine nodded. "I was. I  _am_. Sam just wanted to catch up some more."

"Huh." Puck cocked his head at his quasi-friend and checked his watch. "Don't you have to be with Homo Explosion right now?"

"Shit!" Sam exclaimed. "I totally forgot."

"Homo Explosion?" Blaine asked, already feeling justified in his decision to keep his private life, well, private.

"Glee," Sam supplied, still not making a move to leave. "Puck's just being a dick. We're national champs. It's not the coolest club in the school, but we have some street cred."

Puck snorted. "I'm giving it another month, tops, before the glow wears off and your gay-ass friends start getting slushied and treated to dumpster dives again."

"Puck," Sam's tone had gone from jovially exasperated to completely hardened. "Stop it. Phobic isn't a good look on you."

"Dude, it's just us here, chill."

Sam folded his arms. "You're offending Blaine."

Blaine's eyes widened as a pair of hazel peepers turned on him suspiciously. "No, I'm good," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Puck's just kidding around anyway."

Sam huffed. "Dude, seriously, stop  _lying_."

"Sam..." Blaine said warningly, at the same time as Puck asked what he meant by 'lying'.

"Blaine's gay," Sam blurted, "and you're being offensive."

Puck took a large step away from Blaine. "Dude, not cool." He said. "You can't join the team if you're gay. It's weird."

Sam snapped his neck around in wide-eyed surprise. "What? Puck, don't be an idiot. You don't treat Kurt like this."

"Yeah, well, Princess' big brother is...was... _is_  my best friend. Besides, Kurt knows his place in this school. And  _he_  doesn't wanna shower with us."

Ignoring Sam's muttered 'You'd be surprised', Blaine scoffed at the jock. "Who said anything about me wanting to shower with  _anyone_?"

Puck took another step away, shaking his head. "You'd better watch yourself, Anderson," he threatened, twisting his expression into one of disgust before stalking away.

Blaine turned his frustrations onto his former Dalton peer, his eyes glued to Puck's retreating form. "And you just illustrated my point, Sam. Bravo. What part of 'just drop it' didn't you understand?" The blond's expression was genuinely apologetic, but Blaine wasn't about to let him speak again. "Do me a favour, okay? Just...leave me alone."

Sam didn't have a chance to reply, forced to watch in confusion as the other boy stormed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome welcome, one and all. For those of you who read my other fic, this is something quite different, but enjoyable all the same. It's definitely Blam, definitely AU, and a little bit angsty to start. As always, M rated for a reason.
> 
> Huge shout out to Loki Firefox. I'm collaborating with Loki big time on this one. He's my plot master and has me wrapped around his little finger. I'm loving every second of it. :)
> 
> Title is inspired by Sara Bareilles' song, "Let The Rain"
> 
> As always, I own nothing. Sigh.
> 
> Enjoy, peeps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Unique, when we wrote this, TheFauxMe and I really didn't understand Unique's character. We thought Unique was a gay boy who liked to dress up as a girl, not someone who is transgender. As the story progresses, I think we unconsciously made that shift because when I reread Unique's introduction here I was surprised at how we introduced her. I was tempted to change it (still am) but decided to let it stand and make a note here instead.

When Blaine walked into McKinley the next day, he had a fleeting glance of a mohawk before he was met with a wall of red, stinging ice. It seeped into his clothes and ran down his back, melting into the waistband of his trousers before he could blink. Not that blinking was at all possible, really: the slushy clawing at his eyes, making him feel like someone had set them on fire.

"Oh, sweetie," an effeminate voice sighed somewhere to his right, soft hands--with a surprisingly firm grip--tugging him down the hall. "Let's get you cleaned up. I think I have a spare shirt in my bag."

Blaine licked his lips nervously, his tongue registering the saccharine raspberry flavour as his brain whirred to keep up with the events unfurling around him. "Uh, thanks?" He said, eyes still clenched shut, trying to prevent more of the beverage from assaulting his vision.

He was pushed onto some sort of seat and then gently forced backwards, the sound of a running faucet telling him that he was in a bathroom. Then the soft voice was back, instructing him to relax and keep his eyes closed for a moment. A cool wet cloth was soon wiping at his face and neck, water being spooned over his eyes, rinsing away the dye and corn-starch.

"Okay, I think you're good to blink a bit. Slowly. It'll take a while for the slushy to stop stinging."

Blaine complied, wincing at the sensation. "Who the  _hell_  throws a slushy?" He asked, staring at the ceiling.

"It's common practice around here, I'm afraid."

Blaine sat up gingerly, still blinking, vision starting to focus on his saviour. Before him stood a tall, willowy boy with an angular face and startling blue eyes. He wasn't unattractive, but Blaine couldn't call him handsome either. He was... _pretty_. And his smile was warm and infectious. "So, I'm Kurt," he said, extending his hand. "Welcome to McKinley." His tone became sarcastic.

"Blaine," the former Dalton boy replied, shaking the soft hand, being careful not to squeeze as firmly as he normally would with other guys. He had a vague recollection of Sam mentioning a Kurt yesterday, and there was no doubt that this was the one and the same. "And thanks," he gestured at himself and the cloth in Kurt's hand, "you know, for helping me."

"I'm a slushy veteran," Kurt told him, now digging through his messenger bag, emerging with a black polo. "It wouldn't be right to just walk away." He thrust the shirt forward. "Here, put this on. It might be a little tight, but..." He shrugged. "At least it's black. It will work with almost anything."

Blaine blinked at him, "Oh, you don't have to--"

"Do you seriously want to walk around all day in a sticky, stained shirt?" Kurt's eyebrow was arched expectantly. When Blaine shook his head, he smirked. "Didn't think so."

With a shrug, Blaine peeled off his ruined top and Kurt went red, right to the tips of his ears, turning sharply away. "Uh...what's wrong?" Blaine asked, though the sound came out muffled as he was pulling the new shirt over his face at the time. "I'm sure you've seen shirtless guys before, Kurt."

"Well, yeah, but...I don't, I mean, most guys don't..." He focused on his breathing, counting slowly down from ten in his head. Blaine had some serious definition going on under those clothes! He slammed his eyes shut.  _Focus, Kurt._ "I think it's pretty obvious why most guys would be uncomfortable undressing in front of me," he eventually said, confident in his answer because he was happily addressing an empty bathroom stall. He hadn't anticipated the burst of laughter that met his statement. Frowning, he turned back around. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Blaine was the one smirking now. "Just...do you know  _why_ that Puck guy slushied me?" He figured that the whole school would know by now, in fact. And, while he'd wanted to keep a low profile, a part of him was glad that he didn't have to crawl back into the closet. Playing straight had never been his style, and he didn't do beards.

"Because you're new?" Kurt asked as if the answer was obvious.

Blaine made a funny sound, mimicking an incorrect buzzer on a game show. "Wrong answer. I'll take 'Homophobic Asshole' for five hundred dollars, Alex."

" _You're_  gay?" Kurt goggled, suddenly a little lightheaded. Because hot damn! Gay teens that looked like this one didn't actually exist in Lima. Or anywhere that Kurt could really imagine. Realising that he was probably coming off a little like a starving lion might to a gazelle, Kurt swallowed and forced himself to smile sweetly. "That's...wow." Then another thought hit him. "But...Puck doesn't slushy me these days. I thought he'd, I don't know...matured, maybe?"

Blaine shrugged. Puck had said something about Kurt's brother the previous afternoon, but Blaine didn't want to delve into issues he knew nothing about. The bathroom door swung open before either boy could say any more and a dark-skinned girl walked in, hands on her hips.

"There you are!" She exclaimed at Kurt. "Boy, you'll be in some serious trouble with Mr Schue if you're late for glee again."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He'll live. Especially when I explain why I'm running late this morning." He gestured to Blaine. "Blaine, meet Wade. Wade--" Unique was glowering at him and he sighed dramatically. " _Fine_. Sorry. Blaine meet Unique. Unique, this is Blaine. He's new. And gay. And Puck's latest slushy target."

Blaine looked Unique up and down. Wade, Kurt had said. This girl was a boy?  _Wow_. He was pretty damn convincing as a girl, if Blaine were to be completely honest. Then again, he'd not been paying her...him... _her_  all that much attention. He supposed that, when you looked hard enough, you could see the subtle signs, but for all intents and purposes, Unique was extremely believable.

"Hi," he said, feeling a little overwhelmed. Why had he thought he'd have to play down his sexuality again? If a boy like Wade could walk around the school as a woman and not be attacked, surely Blaine would have been fine being himself. That was, until he stepped on the toes of one mohawked jock. He sighed. There was no use dwelling on 'what if's, he had to deal with the cards he'd been dealt. Looking between the other two, he asked, "So...are you guys...y'know...?"

Kurt's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh, God no," he shook his head emphatically. "No, I like guys who look like guys," he declared, before casting an apologetic look in his glee-mate's direction. "No offence."

Unique's lips curled into a smile, but it wasn't completely friendly. "That's okay, honey. I like guys who  _sound_  like guys." She waited a beat. "No offence."

Kurt attempted to look offended, but a smile was pulling at the corners of his lips. Blaine thought they must banter like this pretty often. All in all, this was probably the most surreal position he'd ever found himself in: slushied, casually conversing with two other gay boys (one a cross-dresser) in what had to be the girls' bathroom, if the sanitary bins in the open stalls were any indication. "Well," he said, subtly inching towards the door. "Thank you for your help, Kurt. And it was nice meeting both of you. I'll get your shirt back to you--"

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurt was back at his side almost instantly. "No way are you going back out there alone. They'll eat you alive." He threaded an arm through Blaine's like it was second nature. "Nope. You're coming to glee with us."

"Glee? No, look, I don't think so." Oh, sure, he'd loved being the front man of the Warblers at Dalton, but that was because they'd been celebrities of the school, worshipped for their talent, not begrudgingly tolerated like they so clearly were here. And Dalton had had a zero tolerance policy about bullying. Regardless of being outed here at McKinley, Blaine was still intent on flying under the radar wherever possible.

Kurt looked scandalised, while Unique made a disappointed clucking sound with her tongue.

"But...you sing, don't you? You've got such a nice speaking voice..." Kurt studied Blaine, frowning, before widening his eyes in surprise. "Wait...I  _knew_ you looked familiar! You were the lead soloist for the Dalton Academy Warblers! I've watched you on YouTube, like, a thousand times." He blushed at the admission. "I mean, Rachel and I both have." He belatedly realised that that hadn't sounded any better. "You know, studying the competition."

"Oh  _pssht_ ," Unique waved that off, taking up her position on Blaine's other side, guiding them out into the hall. "I don't believe  _that_  for a second. The boy is a dreamboat.  _And_  he sings? Kurt, honey, you're not fooling anyone with this 'studying the competition' stuff." She stopped and glared at a gaggle of girls who were staring unabashedly at the odd trio. "What do you think you're looking at? Move along, ladies, there ain't nothin' to see here."

Sandwiched between the others, Blaine cringed. He'd really just wanted to be left alone. Was that really so much to ask for?

 

-?-

"Kurt! Unique! You're late," Will Schuester declared as the two boys in question waltzed into the room, dragging a reluctant Blaine between them, interrupting his lesson of the week. He turned around, a lecture about how disappointed he was dying on the tip of his tongue when he registered the new boy. "And who's this?"

Kurt gave Blaine a shove forward, curious about the way Sam sat up straighter and tried (unsuccessfully) to catch the new student's eye. "This is Blaine, Mr Schue," Kurt supplied. "He's a recent transfer and Puck slushied him this morning. Unique and I helped him clean up."

"Oh," the teacher replied, and Blaine drew his forehead into a frown. Surely the mentioning of Puck's actions should spur some degree of concern from the man, an offer to speak to the bully at least. But, no, the educator gave him a brief flash of sympathy, before asking, "Do you sing?"

 

-?-

"Blaine! Wait up!" Sam called as Blaine attempted a valiant escape from the choir room once the first bell had called. "So...are you going to join New Directions?"

Blaine shot him a wary look. "Probably not."

"But--"

"Sam, what do you want from me?" Blaine stopped and adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, only just refraining from tapping his foot impatiently.

"Dude, Puck slushied you and I kind of feel responsible."

"There's a good reason for that. You kind of  _are_."

Sam reeled back, never having expected to actually have the blame directed at him. "Blaine, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to out you. I mean, I thought...well, you never kept it a secret before and I--"

"Sam, stop. Just stop." The shorter boy shook his head. "I believe you." Sam's expression brightened only to be shut down by Blaine's next sentence. "But I'd appreciate it if you just left me alone like I asked."

"Oh, okay." Sam didn't bother trying to conceal his dejection. "Sure."

"Thanks," Blaine nodded before walking away.

Sam watched him leave with a frown. It made no sense. Blaine had always been so nice, but now here he was, pushing potential friends away? Something didn't add up. Sam would stay back as requested, but he was resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Blaine Anderson.

 

-?-

Blaine winced as his back met with the steel panel of a locker with a loud clang, a combination padlock digging into his shoulder blade, most likely leaving a bruise. The jock that had pushed him sneered and muttered something homophobic before disappearing into the crowd of students milling towards their next classes. Nobody stopped to help him, or even ask if he was okay.

He had a momentary pang of homesickness, missing Dalton with almost every fibre of his being, before swallowing the feeling, pushing it to the deepest, darkest recesses of his consciousness. Dalton was his past. McKinley was his reality.

He'd never felt more alone and out of place, not even when he'd woken up in a hospital bed after the Sadie Hawkins  _incident_ , as his mother had termed it. Not even after what had happened last term.

Blaine took a steadying breath and reminded himself that this was character building. If he could survive here, he could survive anywhere. It was probably an exaggeration, of course, but it made him feel better. He pushed back off the locker and straightened his clothes, sparing a moment's thought for Kurt, the boy who had been kind enough to loan him his emergency shirt.

The fact that kids at this school needed emergency shirts ate away at him, but, like the feelings for Dalton, Blaine pushed that aside. There was no use dwelling on that, either. The glee teacher hadn't even batted an eyelid at the mention of the cruel and unusual torture that had been a slushy to the face, and Blaine didn't doubt that all the other teachers would be just as blasé.

God he missed Dalton.

 _Stop it._ He was thinking in circles, and none of it was productive. Besides, as much as he missed Dalton, he knew Dalton had most likely forgotten about him. Hell, it wasn't as though he'd really had any genuine friends there to begin with anyway, was it?

Blaine had to face the facts: his charmed life was over, and he was alone. Him against the world. He could do this.

No.

He  _would_  do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowsers! Thank you for the reviews of the first chapter. As I said, this is really different for me, but I'm having a blast with it. It's a lot slower going than I Never Said was, but it just means that it's probably going to be a longer fic. And who doesn't love longer fics?
> 
> A couple of things I forgot to mention. As it is AU many of the characters (for example, Puck) are going to be OOC. But I don't write them that way for the hell of it. They have specific roles to fill and I'd prefer to mould characters that already exist than create lame one dimensional OCs that absolutely nobody will form an attachment to. Yes, Puck's a tool here, and it's killing me to write him like this, but it's what I need him for right now.
> 
> Please, readers, review. :) I don't often reply to reviews, and I don't like to beg for them, but we all know the feeling of seeing that new email alert - the one that has feedback in it- a sign that the hours of slaving over a keyboard, editing furiously to make a story sound just right, have been noticed and/or appreciated. My reward is your feedback, and your feedback is rewarded with my continued interest in writing this for you, which, ideally, would earn me more feedback...It's a cycle we all understand pretty well by now, especially those of us who publish fics.
> 
> I'm not one of those people who hold chapters hostage for reviews; I find that a silly thing to do. At the end of the day, I'm writing this for me, too. This isn't for profit. For many of us it's an escape from the tedium of real life, to bond with complete strangers while sharing our love of writing and the characters/settings of our favourite tv shows/movies/novels/whatever. So if you like this, tell me. If you don't? Tell me that, too.
> 
> Once again, Loki Firefox, thanks for being an awesome muse/collaborator/inspiration/slave driver. Writing (and aimlessly chatting) with you is definitely one of the highlights of my life in general. Wow, that sounded way more melodramatic than I intended it to...LOL. What I mean is that I'm loving every second of this process, and I hope you are too. There are a few subtle edits to this chapter from the last time you saw it, Loki. Let's play spot the difference!
> 
> To everyone else, enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, TheFauxMe's original A/N can be found at the bottom.
> 
> While I'm not rewriting the story I am taking the opportunity to streamline our formatting and clearing up typos that we missed the first time around.

"You're not welcome here, Anderson." Puck glowered at Blaine, arms folded. "Sports aren't for homos. You might break a nail or some shit."

Blaine sighed. He'd made it through a week of school, managing to successfully avoid any further iced beverage attacks or locker checks. Coach Beiste had posted her picks for the lacrosse team that morning, and his name had been right at the top of the list (which hadn't even been alphabetical). So he'd ducked into the bathroom and changed into his gym gear after his last class, avoiding the locker room for obvious reasons, then headed out onto the field. The rest of the team had followed him out, clearly waiting to intimidate him en masse, Puck at their helm.

"Look, Puckerman, you saw me play. You said I was good. Your team could use me."

The mohawked jock leered at him. "Bet you'd  _love_ that. The whole team  _using_  you."

"Oh, grow up!"

"There a problem here, boys?" Coach Beiste asked as she made her way over, lugging the equipment bag at her side.

"Coach, me and the boys have been talking," Puck told her without preamble, "And we don't want Anderson on the team."

"Oh," she said. "Okay." Puck grinned until a lacrosse stick was hurtled in his direction, accompanied by her scoffing. "I don't think so, Puckerman. Anderson runs rings around you. So you and the boys can just deal with whatever problem you've got and suck it up." She punctuated the last three words by throwing the practice balls at him, forcing him to deflect quickly with the crosse in his hands.

He glared at her.

"Ten laps, Puckerman. Now." She turned to face the rest of the team. "Any of you want to join him?"

They shook their heads in unison. It would have been amusing, if Blaine didn't know that they'd soon take their frustrations out on him once she was gone.

Practice, he decided, was going to be hell.

So much for a bonding exercise.

 

 

-?-

"Oh my god...  _Blaine_!" Kurt's exclamation was high-pitched and caught the attention of everyone in the hallway, forcing all eyes to land on the curly-haired former Warbler. "What happened?"

Blaine winced. He'd been right about the team not taking kindly to Beiste's interference the previous afternoon. After practice they'd watched her leave and then turned on him, shoving and threatening him. What they hadn't counted on was his Fight Club and boxing experience. He'd managed to take down three of the eleven boys before anyone had really noticed what was going on (he was quick and brutal, winding them in rapid succession, forcing them to their knees) and then he had to  _run_.

One of the guys had landed a good blow before he'd escaped, though, and he had a shiner on his face that no amount of concealer would hide. "It's not that bad, Kurt," he said, the taller boy now in his face, examining the damage. "I've had worse bruises."

And he had. Ignoring the beating that had landed him in hospital (and prompted him to join a gym and learn how to box), Fight Club at Dalton had provided a number of whoppers, though never on the face. None of the boys there had wanted to risk expulsion. McKinley was a different situation altogether.

Kurt brought his hand up to trace the outside of the darkened skin and Blaine hissed at the contact. "This is not acceptable," Kurt declared. "We're going to Principal Figgins."

"No. Kurt, I can't prove anything. Besides, it was outside school hours." And none of the teachers here really cared anyway. Blaine shook his head. "I'll be fine, Kurt. Thank you for your concern."

"You can't keep pushing people away," Kurt said, the words leaving his lips before he could properly think them through. Now that they were out, though, he was committed, so he powered on. "I've been watching you. Okay, so, that sounds creepy, but...you're lonely, Blaine. I can see it. And I don't know why you are so determined to stay that way."

"I'm not--"

"Don't deny it," Kurt had his hand on Blaine's forearm and squeezed for emphasis. "Thing is, whether you join the New Directions or not, I'm making you my personal project. This," he waved his hand over Blaine's jeans and loose tee combination, "isn't working."

Despite himself, Blaine cracked a smile. "Well, it's not my usual style." His smile dimmed a little. "I've been trying to fit in. You know, fly under the radar."

"Oh, honey, looking the way you do? It's not going to happen." Once again, Kurt's mouth ran ahead of his brain, and he blushed. "I mean, you're really attractive and you'd catch people's eyes even if you wore a hessian sack and  _why_  can't I stop talking?"

Blaine laughed, almost taken by surprise by his own mirth. He was flattered by Kurt's crush, but, aside from the fact that the boy was not his type, he wasn't looking to start a relationship. Hell, he wasn't really looking to start any friendships, either.

He paused. Why  _was_  he so determined to push everyone here away? They all knew he was gay, he was being bullied anyway...would it hurt to befriend someone who had been through the same thing? They didn't have to be BFFs or anything, just someone to keep him company during the day. And Kurt was nice, and amusing, and it would be nice to have someone to banter with.

"So, what you're saying," Blaine teased, falling back into the confident persona he'd worn at Dalton with surprising ease. "Is that I shouldn't bother with clothes at all?"

Kurt gaped at him, face and neck and ears turning red.

"Alright, what did you do to break Kurt?" A new voice chimed in and Blaine turned to see the short brunette girl from glee the previous week staring at him, her hands planted on her hips. "Are you trying to sabotage our glee club? Is  _that_ why you transferred mid-year? Because I'll have you know that, despite his obvious talent as our countertenor, you're setting your sights on the wrong soloist."

Kurt regained his equilibrium pretty quickly once his friend started in on Blaine. "Rachel! Stop pestering him. He's not here to sabotage or spy. If you haven't noticed, he's been avoiding glee like crazy. Even with Mr Schue chasing him to join."

"That could all be part of his grand plan, though, Kurt. Allow us to suspect he isn't at all interested and then, when our guards have dropped, swoop in and steal our set lists."

Kurt shook his head, turning back to Blaine. "Ignore her. Rachel is...well, you'll come to love her. Or hate her. It's a fine line." His lips drew into a smirk. "Now, you were saying something about no clothes?"

" _Kurt_!" Rachel cried, scandalised.

Blaine found himself laughing more in half an hour in their presence than he had in almost a month.

 

 

-?-

At lunch, Sam found himself at one end of the glee table watching Blaine pick at his food, sandwiched between Kurt and Rachel. He was smiling, genuinely relaxed despite the bruise over his eye (and when had that happened? Puck was definitely going to be getting a reminder that he wasn't the only boy with muscles at this school!) and Sam felt irrationally frustrated by the whole scene playing out in front of him. It made no sense to him that Blaine would work so hard to push everyone (namely him) away, claiming that he wanted to keep a low profile, only to befriend the most flamboyant people Sam could think of.

Before he knew it, he was out of his seat and sliding into the spare one next to Unique, his eyes locked on Blaine's face. The shorter boy, for his part, looked at him with resignation.

"Sam," he greeted with a nod.

"What happened to your face?" the blond blurted.

Blaine sighed. "I walked into a door. What do you  _think_  happened?"

Oblivious to the glances Kurt, Rachel and Unique were sharing, Sam frowned. "I'm gonna kill him. I didn't make the team," he was honestly better at football, not really having the co-ordination for lacrosse, "and Coach wouldn't even let me sit on the benches and  _watch..._ " He shook his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. He brushed it away angrily. "I should have--"

"What, Sam? Should have what?" Blaine didn't sound at all pleased with Sam's concern. If anything, he only seemed to be getting angry. Taking a deep, calming breath, he tried to maintain his temper. "Ignoring the fact that you're the one who told Puck I was gay," here Kurt gasped and looked at Sam with a half-wounded, half-contemptuous expression, "you're not my babysitter. I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself, Sam, and just because we went to Dalton together doesn't mean we have anything else in common. So, I appreciate your concern, but, again, I'd really like it if you would just leave me alone."

Sam wanted to argue but, taking one look at the expressions on his gleemates' faces, he opted to back off. Hands up in surrender, he pushed his seat back. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just..." He shrugged. "I'm only trying to be your friend, man."

Blaine watched him leave, feeling marginally guilty for being so dismissive. He didn't even know why he was so adamantly against Sam's friendship. Sure, the guy had accidentally thrown him to the wolves (or Titans, as it were), but he'd been trying to help at the time. He'd all but admitted outright hero-worship of Blaine from their brief time at Dalton together, and it was kind of a douche move on Blaine's part to constantly shut him down when, as he'd said, he only wanted to be a friend.

He shook the guilt off, reminding himself that there were more important issues to focus on, namely graduating early and getting the hell out of Ohio.

Only a year to go. It felt like it would be an eternity.

 

 

-?-

Sam stormed into his free period classroom and slammed his bag down into a chair. Mike, who shared the spare with him, glanced up at the noise, frowning when Sam collapsed into another chair with an uncharacteristic huff of annoyance.

The two boys were lucky to find this unused classroom. The area near the doors was used to hold old risers and stacked chairs and desks, blocking the relatively empty space in the back. Sam was delighted to call it their Batcave and it had been their haven since Sam transferred during the previous year.

Mike raised his eyebrow at Sam, indicating his willingness to listen if Sam wanted to vent. Mike had never been a big talker, and Sam knew him well enough by now to read his expressions like a book. Perhaps even better than a book, considering his dyslexia.

Sam looked down at his patient friend and sighed. "It's Blaine," he groused. "I just don't get it!"

Sam started to pace, rubbing the back of his neck; a sure sign that he's worked up over something. He didn't understand why he felt so guilty. Glancing at Mike, he hoped that his friend could help him understand. "Why is he being so difficult? I said I was sorry, I didn't realize that he was back in the closet. I mean you should have seen him in Dalton. Did you know he was approached by PFLAG to do a series of posters? He was literally going to be the poster boy for the gay movement in Ohio. I never did understand why that never took off..."

Sam trailed off when he saw Mike's expression. It was a rare one. Mike only wore that expression when Sam was being stupid. Most people would think that with Mike's GPA he would wear that expression all the time, but this was what Sam loved about Mike. He knew the difference between ignorance and stupidity and, while Sam was often ignorant, he was rarely stupid. Apparently now was one of those times.

Mike took a breath and Sam's heart squeezed just a bit. Mike was going to speak! He must've really messed things up if Mike felt the need to say it!

"Sam," Mike's mellow tones flowed out. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Sam figured Mike would sound the same whether he was ordering a pizza, telling Sam what he did wrong or announcing the end of the world. "For one thing, you can't force somebody to accept your apology. You made it, now leave it to the guy to decide if he forgives you or not. Besides, bugging him about it isn't going to help your case."

Sam opened his mouth to retort but then closed it. Mike was right, as usual. Sam wanted to resent it, but he didn't have a resentful bone in his body. In fact, he was grateful for Mike's friendship. But, at the same time, he found it difficult to express why it was so important for Blaine to have a good opinion of him.

He remembered back in Dalton how cool Blaine was, but how he was also super nice, which only served to make him cooler. When he got to McKinley, it was Blaine's example that prompted Sam to join the glee club as well as do sports. He'd told himself that if Blaine could do it, so could he.

And hadn't he become the proof that it  _could_  be done? He was starting quarterback, overtaking Finn within a few weeks, and he was second lead in New Directions and he'd still never been slushied. He dated Quinn Fabray, albeit for only three weeks, and Santana Lopez when he was a Sophomore. He may not rule the school, not that he wanted to, but had carved a rather nice place for himself. All by trying to do what he thought Blaine would have done.

He looked up to see Mike looking at him, knowing that he was thinking things through. He swore that Mike must have a mutant power or something. He always knew when to talk and when to keep quiet.

"Okay," Sam admitted softly, "you're right. No more nagging. Let him come to me when he's ready."

Mike cocked his head to the side. "Do you understand, though, why he was so upset?"

"Because I outed him to Puck...by  _accident_! I thought he  _was_  out! I didn't mean to put a target on his back!"

"I don't know Blaine at all but I can guess. Nobody comes to McKinley if they can help it. You know that, I know that. We both wouldn't be here if our histories didn't have something in common."

Sam nodded. His Dad had lost the business so they had to scale down their lifestyle. Mike's parents had divorced. His mom got custody while his dad managed to get everything else, including a laughable alimony and child support payments. It still made very little sense to Sam, but Mike seemed happy enough with his life.

"Stands to reason Blaine had something similar happen to him. He transferred mid-year Sam, from which I can infer it was sudden and unexpected. He's lost control of his life. I don't think it was so much that you outed him that upset him, but that you took the decision out of his hands."

And like always Sam heard it, clear as a bell. Mike was right. Now he just had to work on a way to make it up to Blaine somehow. If the other boy ever spoke to him again, of course.

 

 

-?-

"Anderson!" Coach Beiste called after gym that day. "Hang back a bit."

Blaine's shoulders slumped but he nodded and watched as the rest of his class headed back to the locker rooms. In a way he was relieved; changing around the other guys was an uncomfortable affair all around. They assumed (wrongly) that he wanted to see them naked, and he was constantly on tenterhooks, worried about getting another beat down because of their discomfort.

"That's quite a shiner," Coach said, reaching out and tilting his face up by the chin. "Wasn't there at practice yesterday."

"No Coach," he replied, not meeting her eyes.

She sighed, dropping her hand. "Blaine, what's going on? Did one of the other guys do this? Was it Puckerman?"

To Blaine's surprise, she sounded genuinely concerned. He hadn't expected that. Not from her, not from any of the teachers here. Still, he couldn't prove what had happened, and telling her would only cause the team to act out more, so he shook his head, lying without hesitation. "No. I'm just a bit clumsy. I was boxing on the speed ball and missed a beat. It got me instead."

She didn't look convinced. "I don't tolerate violence, Blaine. If one of the guys--"

"I appreciate that, Coach," he cut her off, "but I'm serious. It was just a stupid mistake." Blaine adopted a sheepish smile and a shrug. "These things happen."

She frowned, folding her arms. "Well, if the  _speed ball_  gives you any more trouble, I'm gonna have to do something about it. Understood?"

He nodded, grateful that she was letting the matter drop. The last thing he needed was an adult prying into his business.

Shannon let him go, then set off looking for Noah Puckerman. Regardless of the thin lie Blaine had spun, she knew the mohawked senior was behind the younger boy's injury in some way, and that was not going to be overlooked. She found the miscreant in the nurse's office, sleeping off his math class.

"Puckerman!" She barked, waving off the nurse's scandalised gasp. "Up. You and I need to have a little chat."

He groused but did as he was told, following her all the way across the school, back to her office. She pushed him into the chair across from her desk roughly. "So, yesterday you and the team tell me you've got a problem with Blaine Anderson, then today he turns up with a black eye. You gonna tell me about that?"

The boy crossed his arms defensively. "I don't know anything about that. Dude probably hit on the wrong guy or something."

And there was Shannon's lightbulb moment. Blaine Anderson was gay, and the team were being neanderthalic, closed-minded, scared little rednecks. She glowered across at Puck. "Are you boys seriously threatened by him? I'm surprised by you, Noah. I thought you were, how do you phrase it? Badass?"

His eyes widened and he puffed up his chest. "I am!"

"Then why are you so afraid of Anderson being on the team just because he's into guys? Because, the way I see it, a badass would be sure enough of himself and his sexuality that being around a gay guy wouldn't faze him." She smirked as he sat back, surprised by her logic. Leaning towards him, she planted her hands on the smooth surface of the desk that separated them. "Let me make myself very clear, Puckerman. Anderson is off-limits. If I even suspect that  _anyone_  is giving him grief, for any reason, I'll be holding you and the team personally accountable. And I'm not afraid to bench the lot of you, or worse."

"But--"

"Have I made myself clear?"

He exhaled, obviously trying to rein in his temper. "Crystal." He bit out.

"Good. Now get the hell out of my office."

And the next morning, when Blaine sauntered into the school with his chin held high, wearing tight red jeans, a form-fitting black polo and a freaking bow-tie, Puck watched in horror as girls swooned after him, despite everyone knowing that he was gay. His fingers itched to do something-- _anything_ \--to knock the guy down a peg, but Coach Beiste's threats still rang in his ears. The curly-haired junior dared to nod at him, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and Puck growled, spinning and punching the nearest object: some unsuspecting freshman's locker. It made a loud clanging sound and a flash of pain shot up his arm, but he felt better for it.

Anderson was seriously messing with the way he ran things around here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much wonderful feedback. I am very flattered. :)
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this one. Kurt's so very, very fun to write like this. Tell me you all enjoy him as much as I do.
> 
> Also, the positively amazing scene between Sam and Mike belongs to Loki Firefox himself. I only tweaked it a little bit. He's a genius. I bow to him. And it's only because he asked so nicely that I've updated so quickly.
> 
> So, boys and girls, everyone say: "Thank you, Loki."
> 
> And then leave me a review. *grin*


	4. Chapter 4

Puck was getting pissed. Coleman was late and the other boys were getting restless. Beiste wasn't going to be gone long and this was the safest place in the school to talk without being overheard by people he trusted, or could intimidate to silence.

Puck was livid. He was incensed that Anderson believed that he could strut into his school and flaunt his fagginess and not think there were consequences. As far as Puck was concerned, it didn't matter what Beist said. The Titans, both the football and lacrosse teams, were on the road to winning the regional titles. She wasn't going to risk that, it would mean her job. Besides, Puck thought with anticipation, when they were through with Anderson, he wouldn't dare narc on them anyway.

Puck wanted to get started, fuck Coleman, he can fucking catch up. He was about to start it off when he saw a familiar looking blond walk to his locker. Evans. Didn't he have Homo Explosion going on now? It looked like he skipped it for time in the gym.  _Fuck_. Puck quickly shook his head in the negative, and the group quietly dispersed. He swallowed his frustration and went to his locker, trying to ignore the blond.

"Puckerman."

Puck frowned. Sam just called him "Puckerman," not "Puck" and he obviously wanted to talk. He turned around to face him and,  _holy shit_ , he'd never seen the dude look this pissed. Not even when he found out that Quinn had cheated on him with Finn.

"'Sup Evans?" Puck asked trying to act nonchalant.

"Did you see Blaine this morning?" Sam asked. He had his arm on the locker to brace himself and Puck saw his muscles tense, reminding him that Evans wasn't exactly a lightweight. _Holy Shit_! Was Evans trying to intimidate him? Over  _Anderson_?! He had to be kidding.

"Why would I be looking for the little fairy?"

Sam lost all pretence of being casual or collected. He straightened up, using his height advantage over Puck to loom menacingly. "I don't know why you've got a thing against him being gay, Puckerman, and I don't actually care. I just want you to back off."

Puck rolled his eyes. Who the hell did Evans think he was? You couldn't just waltz on in and start giving the Puckerone orders. He needed to show this kid who was boss. He shoved Evans hard on the shoulder. "You gonna make me, Evans?"

Puck was taken by surprise when he felt Evans tackle him to the ground but then instinct kicked in. He braced himself for impact and he had to admit that move winded him but Puck had been in more scraps, and, quite frankly, tougher ones than this. He wrapped his arms around Sam, effectively pinning him. Evans might have the reach but Puck had mass and more strength. If Evans really wanted to hurt him he should have kept his distance, but he took it to the floor and it was only a matter of time before Puck had him.

Sure enough, though it took longer than he cared to admit, Puck finally had Sam locked down. He had managed get behind him and had his arms around the blond in a half-nelson, one leg pinning Sam's other leg down. Puck could feel the bruise on his side where Evans got a kick in and his right ear was still ringing when he got clocked there but he got more hits in and he knew that Sam would be sporting a number of abdominal bruises for a while.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, Evans?!"

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with  _you_?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Puck asked, easing back now that Sam was no longer a threat. They got to their feet, the blond wincing as he straightened.

"Blaine, man. I'm talking about Blaine," Sam said and Puck could feel the tension radiating off the blond's body. "Why are you so against him being in the team? I thought after you laid-off Kurt and Wade that you got over this and then he comes in and it's like Sophomore year all over again."

"Dude, he's bringing this shit on himself. This place isn't boy-on-boy heaven like that preppy ass private school was. We don't take kindly to his type trying to perve on us in the locker rooms. If he'd be smart, like Hummel, and stay the hell away, we wouldn't be having this talk."

To Puck's surprise, Sam laughed and looked at him with a pitying expression on his face.

"Are you serious? Puck, man, you're an idiot. Have you seen him trying to sneak a peek at anyone?"

Puck pursed his lips and thought about what Sam just said (thinking, idly, that at least he was back to "Puck") because no, Anderson even tried to avoid going into the locker room until the team had left. But it had only been a week; dude could totally be trying to lull them into a false sense of security or something. Before he could bring that up though Sam went on.

"And he's not some pansy, Puck. I heard Lipoff complaining that he took down three guys before someone got in a mean left hook. So what is this really about? Are you jealous that he's more macho than you?"

Puck scoffed. "Jealous? Bro, the Puckster doesn't  _do_  jealous."

"Threatened?"

"What? Fuck that noise!"

"He's just trying to get by, Puck. Admit it, if he didn't try out for the team you probably wouldn't even have noticed him. And if you tell me that you don't feel better about our chances of kicking Carmel's butt in the next round since he signed up, I'll call you a liar to your face, Noah Puckerman."

Puck hated to admit it but Sam had point. Fuck, he even challenged Puck to make it. He had to ask though. "Why do you care Evans?"

Sam shrugged. "I owe him. My big mouth put him on your radar and no one deserves that, especially him. Look, I'm not asking you to be his best friend but can you at least make sure he's actually doing the things you think he's doing before you start making his life hell?"

Puck successfully controlled his wince; Evans was a cool kid (despite his weird ass attraction to singing and dancing with Homo Explosion) and to think that he didn't rate that highly to him, well, it bothered Puck. Not that he would ever say so, but he respected Evans. So now both Beiste and Evans were telling him to give Anderson a chance. What the fuck?

"Whatever Evans," Puck said instead. "You got your boy a break from me. He better not fucking waste it."

Sam nodded and walked away, limping slightly. Puck was about to say something then thought better of it.

_Okay Blaine Anderson. Let's see what you got._

 

-?-

"Hi! You must be Blaine!" A petite redheaded woman beamed from her place behind an immaculate desk. He'd been summoned to the Guidance Counsellor's office, and that was what the plaque on the door read, but this woman seemed way too perky to be in this position. She had wide, doe-eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, and a face that seemed too young to be experienced enough to guide teenagers in either their careers or their personal dramas.

Still, he reminded himself, looks could be deceiving, and if this was the only guidance counsellor on staff he had no other choice than to speak with her. He pasted on a smile and nodded. "That's me."

"Great!" She smoothed her hands down her skirt, then gestured to the spare seats in front of her. "Come on in, take a seat." He complied and she shuffled a stack of pamphlets, placing them in a neat stack directly between them. "I'm Ms Pillsbury," she said, "it's really nice to meet you. I've been going through your transcripts from Dalton, and noticed that you've applied for extra credit courses. It looks to me like you're working hard to get out of school as quickly as possible."

He nodded again, this time folding his arms across his chest, becoming a little defensive. "Uh, yeah, I'm aiming to get early acceptance into college and graduate early."

"I think that's a wonderful plan," she beamed in reassurance, those big eyes of hers seeming to only grow wider with excitement. "And I think with grades like yours, it can definitely be achieved. You will probably get special consideration for your current home situation, too." He shifted uncomfortably and nodded, eager for her to take the topic back to school work. Somehow he knew that, if he gave any indication that he didn't want to talk about his home life, she'd wind up forcing him to. Thankfully, she continued on with her spiel. "However, McKinley doesn't offer a lot in terms of extra credit classes that we could accommodate on top of your current class schedule, but we  _do_ have a Peer Tutoring Program that I believe you would be perfect for."

He pursed his lips. Tutoring? At this school? Was she insane? The jocks were already on his case, the last thing he needed was to wind up trying to  _teach_  one of them.

Sensing his hesitation, Emma plowed onwards, her enthusiasm picking up as she spoke, reciting the words that were no doubt verbatim from one of the pamphlets on her desk, trying to convince him that it really was a great idea. "Our Program is beneficial to both parties, and as a tutor you do not just earn credit towards your diploma, but many universities look upon your participation as a volunteer peer tutor in quite a positive light, given that it highlights community outreach in addition to academic pursuits. I have it on good authority that a number of early placement positions are allocated to students who show this sort of initiative."

Blaine knew he was being manipulated, but it made sense to him nonetheless. It  _would_  look good on his college applications...

With another sigh, he found himself asking, "Who would I be tutoring? What would I be tutoring them in?"

Eyes lighting up, she scooted forward in her chair. "Well, your grades across the board are nothing short of exemplary, but we are sorely lacking tutors in our English and History subject areas. Would you be comfortable with that?"

"As comfortable as I would be with any of it, I guess."

She failed to pick up on his less-than-enthused tone. "Excellent! In terms of  _who_ you'll be tutoring, that depends on which sessions you will be attending. We run after school sessions every day, from three until five, and the more sessions you attend the more credit you'll receive. Naturally, looking at your schedule, I know you have to work around lacrosse training, and give yourself study time for your AP classes." She licked her lips. "Your transcript said you used to be the lead soloist for the Dalton Academy Warblers, something else which will look fantastic on your college applications. Have you considered joining the New Directions? Or, if you're looking for a change of scenery from the glee club, there are other arts opportunities: the school musical, AV club, photography club, jazz band..."

"I'll consider it," he agreed, if only to get back to the whole point of the conversation. "Would I be tutoring the same person each time, or a group of people, or what, exactly?"

"We try to have you work one on one with another student as we've found this has better results overall than having either of you work with someone different each session."

 _Great_. It would be just his luck to be landed with Puck for the rest of the school year. Though, he supposed, he could always pull out of the program if that was the case. They couldn't  _force_  him to continue. And this really would round out his transcripts nicely.

He agreed and found himself with a handful of flyers and pamphlets, a number of which seemed to be geared towards the many things that could go wrong. Eyes widening at some of the more colourful titles, he stashed them into his messenger bag and left the room asking himself what on earth he had just done.

 

-?-

He asked himself the same question again later that afternoon when he was seated at a table at the back of the library, anxiously awaiting the student he'd be tutoring. The librarian had given him a stern run through of the rules (no loud music, no loud talking, no eating or drinking, no chewing gum, no graffiti...the usual, really) and then directed him to the empty table at the far end of the room, telling him that the other student would be along shortly.

With each passing minute, his anxiety grew. He hoped that he got a Freshman or a Sophomore to tutor, preferably one of the girls, or at least a guy he could get along well with. Deciding that it was ridiculous to work himself into a state over it, he pulled out his own homework and started on it, glad for the distraction. A shadow fell over him ten minutes later.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I had gym and..." the voice trailed off in surprise. "Oh. Uh. Blaine. Hi. I, uh, I didn't know you were tutoring."

Blaine blinked up at the blond in bemusement.  _Well_ , he thought,  _at least he's not Puck, or one of the other lacrosse jocks_. "Sam," he sighed, setting his pen down and leaning back in his seat. "I didn't know you needed a tutor."

Sam's cheeks coloured a little and he shrugged. "I'm dyslexic," he confessed quietly. "Mom got me a specialist to help with it, but we've had to cut back on my sessions and I'm still falling behind in class, so..." He exhaled. "Here I am."

"Okay." Blaine felt awkward and even more guilty than he had the other day when he'd brushed Sam's concern off angrily. This was proof that he wasn't the only one going through a tough time, be it at home or at school or a combination of both. And, just like with Kurt, Sam seemed to be genuinely friendly, and he'd made an effort to keep out of Blaine's hair for the last couple of days.

Would it really hurt to throw the guy a bone and be civil, if not a friend? Again, it wasn't as though sitting with him at lunch or talking in the halls meant that Blaine would have to tell the blond his deepest, darkest secrets.

Resolved to at least  _try_ and give the guy a chance, Blaine patted the seat beside him. "You going to sit?" And damn if he didn't feel another pang of remorse when Sam's eyes brightened, his lips curving up into a relieved sort of smile.

"Thanks." Sam dropped into the plastic seat with a thud, his backpack landing on the table in front of him. He opened it and dug through it, pulling out random crumpled pieces of paper, a few worn notebooks, a couple of pens and a comic book. He blushed again and hastily shoved the last item back in his bag, but it was too late. Blaine had seen it, and he was glad for the opportunity to properly break the ice between them.

"So you read comic books?"

"They're called graphic novels."

"Only if they tell a complete story that is illustrated. Most comic books are serials. I guess you could call them graphic novels if the series ended--and I'm talking a proper ending, not just cancelled--and you collected them all and bound them into a book." The former Warbler looked up at Sam to find the blond staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. "What?"

"You read comics?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Why does that surprise you?"

"I dunno," Sam answered with another shrug. "I figured you were too classy and refined to read comic books."

Blaine didn't deign to answer that and just snorted instead. Sam, however, saw the edge of Blaine's lips twitch upward and was heartened to know that things between them might be alright after all. He relaxed, letting go of tension in his shoulders that he'd not been aware of.

"I bet you collected the Vertigo stuff. In fact, I bet," Sam teased with a twinkle in his eye, "that you collected  _every_  issue of Sandman!"

"No, of course not," Blaine shot back with a haughty sneer which quickly melted into a grin. "I collected the trade paperbacks."

Sam laughed, earning them a reprimand from the librarian, which they both rolled their eyes at before sharing another quiet chuckle.

"Well, we should get on with the tutoring," Blaine eventually said, dispelling a little of the awkwardness that had started to seep back over them. "What are you working on in English?"

The two hours seemed to fly, the boys getting along better than either had imagined possible, especially given their negative reintroduction the previous week. Sam learned that Blaine was crazy smart, but still really guarded, while Blaine learned that the blond was--despite his athletic build--a definite nerd who could quote Avatar backwards and was capable of some pretty hilarious celebrity impersonations.

"Wow, dude...I can't believe I actually finished my English homework  _and_ started the History essay," Sam gushed as he put all of his stuff back in his bag. "You're like a wizard or something."

Blaine shook his head as he packed his own bag back up, a genuine smile on his lips. "Nope, not a wizard. You just needed help getting around the questions." He'd read the questions out to Sam and they'd discussed the answers out loud, the blond surprising him with just how much of the content he actually knew. "After that, it's just a matter of writing your thoughts down and putting it together so it makes sense."

"I don't care what you say. If I'd tried that on my own, I wouldn't have gotten past writing my name," he grinned lopsidedly. "When are we going to do this again?"

Frowning a little at how dismissive Sam was of his own abilities, Blaine considered his schedule. "Well...I have lacrosse training on Mondays and Fridays, so that's out."

"And I've got New Directions on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings and Thursday afternoons..."

"So, Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, then?" Blaine asked for confirmation, pulling out his timetable so he could allocate the blocks specifically for tutoring, even though he knew he had no other plans anyway.

Sam nodded eagerly. "I'm cool with that. I work at DQ some evenings, but most of my shifts are on weekends. Kinda sucks for my social life, but what are you gonna do?"

Blaine's smile turned tight. "Yeah," he agreed, hoping the joviality didn't seem too forced. "That's life, right?" He made a show of checking his watch. "Anyway, it's late, I'm going to head home. Same time next Tuesday, right?"

Sam didn't know what he'd said to scare Blaine off so suddenly, so he nodded. "Uh, yeah. Next Tuesday. I'll see you around school before then, though."

"Yeah," Blaine replied distractedly. "I'll see you around."

 

-?-

Blaine sighed in relief when he got home. It had been an exhausting day. He parked his slightly beat-up Toyota Corolla along the curb. He was missing his old car, but in the end, it had been far more practical to sell it. He was still debating with himself if he should have kept all the proceeds of the sale instead of buying this car with some of the money. But, on days like this, he was glad that he didn't have to worry about taking the bus home.

He got out of the car, grabbed his messenger bag and locked up. The neighbourhood was decent enough, but he knew not to tempt fate. He walked up to the rather charming brick-faced apartment building. It was three storey walk-up and had an inner courtyard. No pool but a nice garden that would probably be cool in the summer.

As Blaine walked up the stairs he reminded himself how lucky he was. When he had arrived here a month ago he'd been bitterly disappointed that all the units were being rented. This was the last apartment building in his budget that was in a relatively safe neighbourhood. Outside of this, he'd faced the choice of going somewhere like Lima Heights or a pricier area which would have eaten into his principal.

Thankfully, the owner of the building had seen his disappointment and mentioned that he had just converted and expanded the shed on the roof into a studio apartment. It wasn't furnished and still needed a coat of paint but if Blaine finished painting it he could move in while finishing it.

It had been perfect for Blaine's needs and he'd moved in that evening, glad to have found somewhere better and more permanent than the local Motel 6. It was spartan to the extreme but Blaine had not only grown accustomed to it, he rather liked it now. He loved the idea of having very little possessions to drag around with him; there were the essentials and a few personal effects that held sentimental value. He kept only what mattered.

The apartment was like living in a slightly larger than usual bedroom, with room for a queen sized bed (an item he'd purchased from the deceased estate of one of the downstairs neighbours two weeks after he'd moved in; before that he'd slept on an air mattress he'd gotten on sale at Walmart), an old wardrobe (purchased from the same estate sale), a tiny ensuite bathroom and a kitchenette. His electric keyboard fit nicely under the bed, and his guitar had found a home in the corner of the main living area, sandwiched between the wardrobe and the door. He didn't have a TV, but found he didn't need one. He had his laptop and his DVD collection, and used the free wifi at the McDonalds down the road for his schoolwork. His phone, one of his more expensive luxuries, allowed him to access Facebook and Google at a pinch, but he rarely found the compulsion to do so.

In the kitchenette, he'd placed a rickety old card table that he'd bought at a yard sale, along with two mismatched chairs from Goodwill. The table served as extra counter space, a dining table and a desk. He'd managed to buy a small bar fridge in pretty good shape from a local second hand appliance store, and had sourced a microwave, toaster and portable convection oven from Walmart and Target, along with some cutlery and basic crockery.

All in all, Blaine was proud of his domestic independence. It only proved what he'd known all along; he was strong, and he didn't need anyone but himself.

But, he realised despite his best efforts, that didn't stop him from feeling lonely. He sighed as he settled in to bed, closing his eyes.

One more day down, at least another year to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the lovely reviews. Now, my loves, I bring you chapter 4. Loki wrote the first scene and some of the last scene, and guided me through the rest. Goodness, but he's just amazing. Typos/grammatical errors are my own and I apologise if I've failed to catch them.
> 
> Just a warning, this is the last update you'll receive from me until late November because my darling hubby is taking me to Vegas for just over a week. I can't wait! Bye bye Australia, Hello USA! Now, if someone could convince Mr Criss, Mr Salling or Mr Overstreet (or ALL THE ABOVE) to leave LA and meet me at the Excalibur, that'd be great. :)
> 
> \----
> 
> Loki - the dates of when these chapters are posted are guesswork. I know for sure that we started on Oct 28, 2012 but the intervening chapters is anyone's guess. So I'm putting down every Sunday as that is more or less accurate.


	5. Chapter 5

"Blaine!" Will called out, seeing the former Warbler passing by the choir room. "Hey, would you mind joining me for a second?"

Blaine sighed and contemplated telling the teacher that, yeah, he did mind, but opted against it. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd started tutoring Sam, and the blond seemed to really like the glee coach, so Blaine thought he might as well give the man the time of day. "What can I help you with, Mr Schuester?"

"Emma told me that you're thinking about auditioning for the musical," Will said, only to be met with a blank stare.

"Um, who?"

"Oh! Sorry, Ms Pillsbury."

Blaine smiled genuinely at the mention of the doe-eyed woman. She'd been helping him compile lists of colleges that both interested him and offered early admittance packages, and had turned out to be a surprisingly knowledgeable guidance counselor. "Oh, well, yes...I did mention that to her. In passing."

"And Kurt showed me videos of you and the Warblers on YouTube..."

Blaine wasn't an idiot. He knew where this was going. Still, he'd promised himself that he'd make an effort to be more like himself, the way he'd been before he'd come to McKinley. He'd taken to wearing his old favourite outfits, strutting around with confidence, figuring that the jocks were going to be on his case no matter what he wore or who he befriended. Laying low hadn't worked out, so he was taking steps to at least make himself happy wherever possible.

"Mr Schuester," he began.

"Please, Blaine, call me Mr Schue. All my other kids do."

Blaine bit his lip to prevent the 'I'm not  _your_ kid' from escaping. Pasting a smile on his face, he nodded. "Mr Schue," he corrected, "I know you want me to join the New Directions, and it would be...interesting to be on a National Title team, but I'm looking for a different set of experiences right now. Which is why I spoke to Ms P about the musical instead. It's closer to the line of work I want to be in once I graduate, you know?"

Will's face fell, but he nodded, not wanting to push the boy. Emma had filled him in on the circumstances behind his transfer to the school, and keeping him well-adjusted and happy should be the number one priority. Of course, Will honestly felt that Blaine would achieve that through glee, like all the others had, but convincing him to join was harder than he'd anticipated it would be.

"I understand," he managed, still thinking of ways to change Blaine's mind. "Well, I guess I'll see you at auditions next week. Unless, of course, you decide to come to glee after all." He grinned. "The door is always open."

"Okay," Blaine said, backing out of the room. "I'll keep that in mind."

-?-

Blaine was actually pretty pleased with the way things were falling into place. The guys on the team weren't exactly being nice, but they had backed-off on the worst of the physical bullying, which Blaine counted as a win.

Things only seemed to get better on the weekend. On one of his walks around his new neighbourhood on Saturday he discovered a music store. From the outside it didn't look to even be open, old posters in the windows having faded, the sign over the door cracked and peeling. But the sign in the window proclaimed it open and, having nothing better to do, Blaine walked right on in.

He was met with a vibrant store, not exactly bustling with people but not empty either. There were vinyl records against one wall, CDs along another. Across the windows were racks of sheet music and, in the very centre of the store, on top of beautifully polished timber floorboards, stood a gleaming white baby grand piano. It took Blaine's breath away to look at, reminding him of a happier time when he'd still lived at home with his parents. When they'd loved him.

He crossed the floor and ran his fingers lightly over the keys on sheer instinct, lost in thought. He sat down at the bench, closing his eyes, pressing a familiar melody experimentally at first, reveling in how finely-tuned the instrument was. Soon enough he was playing confidently, his soft humming turning to lyrics, the words flowing from his lips as he threw himself into the performance.

When the song tapered off, he opened his eyes to applause and crashed face-first back into reality, a blush rising up his neck and onto his cheeks. "Oh, uh, thanks," he said to the crowd, moving to stand up.

A strong, beefy hand pushed him back down and he looked up into the face of an older gentleman, presumably the store owner.

"Sir, I am so, so sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's just, it's such a beautiful piano and I used to have one very similar and just--"

The man laughed, cutting Blaine off with booming mirth. "No!" He said in a thick European accent, Blaine was thinking Eastern Bloc, "this is good. It is meaning to be played. You can continue."

Blaine shook his head, still feeling as though he'd imposed. "Oh, I couldn't. I mean, I should be heading home anyway...I can't afford to actually  _buy_  anything and--"

"You living close by?"

"A few blocks away, yes." Blaine nodded.

The old man looked at him with an expression of contemplation, his salt and pepper eyebrows drawn together. "And you have no money?"

Blaine sighed. "I have enough to get by," he shrugged.

"What is your name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

"Alright, Blaine Anderson. I have idea. You stay. You are good-looking boy with good voice. You bring cute girls in to store, they bring boys, everyone buys something. You are good for business. You want job?"

Blaine blinked up at the man, waiting for the punch line. None came. The large, elderly man was being completely genuine. "I'd love a job here," he confessed, "but, well, I don't know how much use I'll be. I mean, I don't think the girls will stick around when they find out I'm gay," he added, almost like a challenge.

The old man just shrugged. "Then you bring in cute boys, too. Either way, I make the money. Even better, you won't get girl pregnant, da? So no problem. Also, my granddaughter, she is very beautiful. She likes boys who are musical. Now I can bring her to store with no worries. You look almost her age." He paused. "How old are you?"

"I'll be eighteen in a couple of months." Blaine smiled, amazed by the man's easy acceptance and even easier generosity. He couldn't believe his luck; being handed a job all for sitting down and manhandling a stranger's piano without permission. But his face fell. He didn't see how he could fit the job in during the week, not with lacrosse and tutoring and wanting to be in the musical. "But...I don't know if I can accept your job. I have so many school commitments during the week..."

Once again, the old man shrugged. "Then you only work weekends. Is busiest time anyway. You will play piano, and sing, and learn inventory. Then one day I can have weekends off with my family and you can run store."

"Wow. This is amazing. Thank you! You have no idea how much this will help with rent and food..." He trailed off, realising a little too late that he'd given too much of his situation away.

"Wait. Rent and food? You are young and in school, da?" His forehead was creased with worry lines. "Where are your parents?"

"I..." Blaine shook his head, his show smile coming out to play. He'd already said too much as it was. "It doesn't matter. I'm doing pretty well on my own."

"We will see," the store owner said dismissively, and Blaine was tempted to ask what, exactly, he would do if he decided that Blaine wasn't coping.

Instead, though, the teenager asked his new boss for his name.

"Alexei," the old man told him, "But Alex is good."

"Okay. Alex," Blaine replied, testing the name on his tongue, standing up and sticking out his hand in both greeting and to cement their agreement. "It has been very nice meeting you."

"You as well, Blaine Anderson. You come back tomorrow for job, yes?"

Blaine beamed happily and nodded. "Yes."

-?-

His first day working for Alexei was informative and fun, learning the basics on how to man the register in between taking requests and performing on the beautiful baby grand. The six hours from opening to close seemed to fly by, and Alexei paid him cash in hand at the end of the day, winking. "If anyone asks, you are family. You are...what is word?  _Volunteering_  to help old Uncle Alexei. The money is gift."

It was shady, sure, but Blaine doubted that the IRS would be auditing him--or Alex--anytime soon.

Soon enough it was Monday again, and Blaine found himself actually looking forward to school for the first time since he'd left Dalton, keen to actually talk to his new friends about his weekend activities. Plus, today was the day he would audition for the musical, and he was excited about that, too, having used some of the previous day performing in front of an audience to practice his audition piece. Alex had applauded loudly each time, not seeming to get bored of hearing the same song played so many times during the day.

"Hey Blaine," Sam was the first of his new-found friends to greet him as he traversed the halls of McKinley High, bumping his fist as he met him stride for stride. "'Sup?"

Blaine grinned at him, practically vibrating with excitement. "I got a weekend job," he said, "working at a music store. Performing, even."

"Really? Dude, that's excellent. Congrats."

"What are we congratulating Blaine for?" Rachel asked, sidling up alongside Sam, looping her arm in his and blowing Blaine a kiss by way of greeting.

"He scored a job singing in a music store," Sam told her, stealing Blaine's thunder happily.

" _And_ playing piano," Blaine added, meeting Rachel's gaze as they pulled up to his locker. "It's a gorgeous instrument, Rach."

Sam sniggered. "Bet you don't say that to many girls."

Rachel slapped him across the chest. "Samuel Evans, don't be vulgar. It's unbecoming of a strapping young gentleman like yourself."

Blaine snorted. Rachel slapped him on the upper arm.

"Don't you start, Blaine Anderson."

"Yes'm."

She rolled her eyes. "Boys."

"What's wrong with boys?" Kurt asked, joining their little group.

"Nothing," Blaine and Sam supplied at the same time, before meeting each others' eyes and chuckling.

Kurt frowned exaggeratedly as he watched them. "You're both aware that it's a Monday, right? It's like a crime to be this happy on a Monday morning. Unless you're high. In which case, the fact that you haven't offered to share with us is just plain cruel."

" _Kurt_!"

He laughed. "Relax, Rachel. I'm kidding." He waved a hand over the other boys. "Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over here are too squeaky clean for that type of thing. Right boys?"

"I don't know which part of that sentence I'm more offended by," Blaine responded, before quickly adding "I'm Tweedle-Dee!" at the exact same time as Sam. He recovered first. "No way," he told the blond, "I am. You're definitely Tweedle-Dum."

Rachel turned to Kurt with an exasperated sigh. "I hold you responsible for this."

"At least they've become pretty good friends," Kurt said quietly while Blaine was distracted by his bickering. "The tutoring sessions have done them both a world of good."

Rachel nodded her agreement, remembering the awkward confrontation at lunch those few weeks earlier. She definitely preferred this immature, playful banter to the open hostility and awkwardness. And it had allowed her to befriend Sam through Blaine, not having realised just how well she and the blond boy could get along, convinced that they wouldn't have anything in common--besides glee--to talk about.

In the end, it turned out that he was incredibly funny, knew a lot more about musical theatre than she'd given him credit for, and liked a number of the same films that she did. His Johnny Depp impersonations (especially his Sweeney Todd) were eerily accurate. And she admired how loyal a friend he'd become to Blaine, often shielding him from other jocks without the shorter boy even realising it.

In fact, secretly she wondered if he realised how attached he actually was to Blaine, but wisely kept her mouth shut, not wanting to make things awkward between everyone again.

Across the hall, Finn Hudson watched the odd group playfully bicker and giggle, and found himself filled with jealousy when Rachel threw back her head, exposing the elegant column of her throat, and laughed loudly at something Sam had said. It wasn't fair, Finn fumed silently. Until a couple of weeks ago, she'd been completely smitten with him, not Sam and two gay boys. Oh, sure, he was dating Quinn again, but he'd loved having Rachel's attention, had enjoyed the way she flattered his ego, and had thrilled in the way that Quinn's attentions seemed to double whenever Rachel was in the vicinity.

But now Rachel's attentions had waned completely, and he didn't understand  _why_. She'd never found Sam attractive before, and she sure as hell knew better than to throw herself at gay men (regardless of the fact that she was raised by two men and that it was always said that a girl would try to find a man that reminded her of her dad). So why? What had changed?

"What are you looking at, white boy?" Mercedes asked as she walked up next to the tall teen. She followed the direction of his glower and groaned. "Ugh. You're still not over her? Finn, you're with the captain of the Cheerios. You don't need no little miss diva, Streisand-wannabe gettin' in the way of that."

Finn sighed. "I just don't get it," he said. "That new guy isn't even in glee." He screwed up his nose. "And he's gay."

"Finn!" Mercedes snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Ignore her. You've got Quinn. Remember Quinn? About yay high," she held her hand up near his chest, "blonde, hot as hell? Rachel Berry ain't worth your time, sweetie." She linked her arm in his, forcefully dragging him away. "Now come on,  _this_ hot mama needs an audience to listen to her audition piece."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, my darlings, I haven't forgotten you or this fic. I am back from Vegas (*sobs* I miss the USA already!) and ready to get back into our BLAM goodness. A lot of people have favourited and followed this fic, which is super awesome, but a few reviews wouldn't go astray. ;)
> 
> And it almost goes without saying that Loki Firefox is a Godsend and made this (and every other) chapter possible.
> 
> Oh, and I don't mean to offend anyone with the accent I've written in (you'll know it when you read it). I've kind of based it on the way my Grandfather used to speak (I actually hear his voice in my head as I write it, which is very cool seeing as he passed away almost a decade ago). It's a broad generalisation and intended to highlight a character quirk, not provide any sort of negative stigma. So, yes, if I've offended, I apologise in advance.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine nailed his audition. He didn't like to brag, of course, but he nailed it and he nailed it  _good_. And what better way to say "I'm perfect for Tony" than to sing a Tony song? Sam and Kurt had applauded loudly, Unique and Rachel had wolf-whistled, and for that moment, that bright, shining moment, he'd been his old self again. Utterly complete.

"Dude," Sam said, slinging his arm across Blaine's shoulders. "How can I compete with that?"

"Oh," and now he felt marginally guilty. He was the new kid; he should have thought about the others who really wanted the part, who had been at the school the longest. Sam laughed and jabbed him in the ribs, finding his ticklish spot with eerie accuracy.

"Blaine, I'm kidding. You're totally perfect for the role," Sam slung his other arm over Kurt's shoulders, pulling him closer. "And you! Kurt, you were  _hilarious_! If they don't give you something big, too, I'm gonna seriously question the integrity of that panel of...what are they, exactly? Judges?"

Kurt preened under the compliment and shrugged. "They're the directors, choreographers, costume designers, teachers...a little bit of everything all rolled into one." He stopped, seemingly deep in thought. "You know, they should ask for Brittany and Mike to help choreograph. There's nobody better at it in this whole school."

Sam nodded. "Mike's all over that. Did you see his audition? He mightn't be the best singer, but dude can  _move_. He's gonna talk to Ms P, Coach Beiste and Artie this afternoon."

"Good plan," Blaine agreed. "Mike's a really nice guy. You know, he told me he wants to major in dance when he goes to college?"

As he asked the question, he recalled meeting the quiet boy.

Blaine had sighed as he watched Mrs Pendergast, the AP Chemistry teacher, leave the clasroom after making the bold announcement that he and Mike Chang were now lab partners. He'd turned to face the remaining occupant in the now otherwise empty classroom.

"I'm sorry about all this. I didn't mean for you to get saddled with me but I promise you that I'll pull my weight and--"

"It's alright Anderson," Mike interrupted. Blaine couldn't help but notice how cool and smooth his voice was. Mike Chang was an enigma. Blaine had seen him in his letterman and learned that he was a member of the football team but he was also in all of Blaine's AP classes. Blaine would have scoffed at the thought of a brainy jock except that he sort of fit that description himself.

Now he found himself forced on the poor guy. Mrs Pendergast had set a year-long class project as part of her requirments to pass her AP Chemistry class. As a mid-year transfer, there was not enough time for Blaine to catch up, meaning that he'd had to join an existing group. Mrs. Pendergast assigned him to work with Mike Chang who had decided to go solo. In doing so, she'd increased the scope of Mike's project to justify Blaine's inclusion, making the former Dalton boy feel bad for giving Mike more work.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. He'd only just realised the ramifications of pissing off that Puck guy; the last thing he'd wanted was another jock targeting him.

Mike had just shrugged, getting up and and retrieving his bag. He'd walked towards Blaine with a lazy grace and reached into a side pocket of his bag, hand emerging with a thumb drive before he'd given it to Blaine.

"I like a good challenge," Mike had said. "These are my project notes. Look them over and tell me what you think. I'll work on how to incorporate the additional material. Meet me in the library tomorrow?"

Blaine had nodded. Together, they'd quickly worked out a schedule and with that Mike was gone.

Blaine had noticed that Mike was in all his AP classes earlier, but he was surprised to learn that he was a junior, too. Mike was ridiculously quiet, but, after their first meeting in the library, he'd certainly lived up to the stereotype of the brainy Asian.

They didn't exchange a lot of personal information. Blaine didn't feel like sharing and Mike didn't ask. They'd just focused on the class project. However, curiosity eating away at him, Blaine eventually did ask Mike why he hadn't joined the lacrosse team. If the reason he'd asked this was because he wanted at least one jock on the team that didn't hate his guts, Blaine kept that to himself. Mike seemed to understand though, because he'd answered Blaine with what sounded like regret.

"I used to be. Like Puck, I was a member of both football and lacrosse teams. I was a receiver. I like to run," Mike informed him with a rare grin. "Do you know what you want to do after school?"

Blaine had blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. He'd looked at Mike and saw that the other boy really wanted to know, so he'd shrugged and replied. "Well," He'd begun, struggling to order his thoughts. His life had changed so much so quickly he hadn't really given it too much thought. He was so focused on just graduating quickly. "I was planning to mix the arts with either a business degree or law but that was mostly to please my parents and still touch on something I like. But now? Now I'm just happy that, when I do have to think about it, I don't have to please anyone but myself." He sighed. "In an ideal world? I want to be performing. Or something."

"Fair enough," Mike had replied. "I learned last year that more than anything I want to dance." He'd offered a small smile when Blaine's eyebrows rose in surprise, staying quiet until Blaine realized that this was the answer to his first question about lacrosse. Blaine had thought about it for a minute then quickly figured it out.

"You want to minimize getting injured," Blaine had said, pleased at seeing Mike's smile when he got it right. "But wouldn't lacrosse be safer than football?"

"I switched positions to kicker. I don't get to run as much but it's fun working out trajectories and power-to-distance ratios."

What was left unsaid was how wearing the letterman made a person safe from the bullies who targeted quiet and smart kids. Unless they were gay.

Blaine found that he couldn't begrudge Mike for seeking that protection. Blaine enjoyed spending time with Mike. He was quiet and didn't pry (unlike some  _blond_  people he knew) and their time together had quickly expanded to include studying for their other classes.

For the first time, Blaine had hope that he could do this, and he pasted on a smile as he tuned back in to the conversation around him.

"Could you honestly see him as anything other than a professional dancer?" Kurt asked.

"Are we talking about Mike?" Rachel asked, patting the seat next to her as the trio loomed closer. They were still in the auditorium, intent on watching as many of the auditions as possible.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, dropping into the seat next to her, gently pushing Kurt to take the one on her far side. Blaine sat down next to Sam. "Where'd Unique go?"

"To prepare for her audition."

Sam nodded. "Who's up next?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. I was mostly interested in seeing you boys perform. I am confident that I will be cast as Maria. I was  _born_  to play Maria. Did you  _hear_ my flawless vocals?" She leaned forward across Sam's lap so that she could properly address Blaine. "You will make a fine Tony, Blaine."

He chuckled. "Rachel, we don't know if I'll actually get the part. Sam hasn't even auditioned yet."

"Oh," she straightened and gave Sam an apologetic pat on his thigh. "Sorry Sam."

"Wait for it..." Kurt muttered.

"But you simply must admit, Blaine is the  _obvious_  choice to play my Tony."

Kurt rolled his eyes exaggeratedly behind her head, causing Blaine to snort. Both boys quickly schooled their expressions into innocent facades when her eyes narrowed, whipping her attention back and forth between them.

"I agree, Rach," Sam told her happily, distracting her from their teasing. "Which is why I'm changing my audition to Bernardo."

"I am so proud of you, Sam," she beamed. "You're a consummate professional."

"Uh, I...thanks. I think."

"Shhh," Kurt nudged her. "They're about to start the next round."

They settled into their seats as Finn was called to the stage and, though he couldn't dance and his voice was subpar in comparison to Blaine's, his audition was still entertaining and they made a show of applauding him, Rachel and Sam supporting their gleemate, Kurt supporting his step-brother, Blaine simply being friendly.

Next came Joe, strumming a guitar and crooning casually. They applauded him, too.

Santana Lopez strutted onto the stage soon after, casting them a bored glance before announcing that she wanted to play Anita. "Maria's a whiny little girl," she explained, shooting Rachel a pointed look before preening. "Anita's badass. And totally hot." Her audition earned her a standing ovation from Coach Beiste, Ms Pillsbury and Sam.

"What?" He asked the others as he sat back down. "She was awesome." Plus she was his ex, and he'd wanted to show his support.

Mercedes' audition was good, almost good enough to worry Rachel, but Blaine and Kurt assured her that she'd been the better performer.

And then it was Sam's turn. Blaine found his attention riveted to Sam's face as he sang, never having seen the blond perform before. Not solo, at any rate. He had a gorgeous voice and the ability to convey emotion without sounding forced or too flat. When Sam finished he applauded with vigour, wolf-whistling with Unique who was waiting in the wings for her audition. Instead of leaving out the side door, Sam walked down the front steps of the stage, joining his friends again.

"You would have made an excellent Tony," Blaine told him, eliciting a goofy grin.

"You're still gonna be better."

"Ugh," Kurt cut in, tone teasing. "Quit the lovefest, boys, you're giving me cavities."

"Aww, Kurtie, are you jealous?" Sam taunted back. "Don't worry, bro, I love you, too."

"You're right," Kurt deadpanned, "I feel so much better now."

Sam poked his tongue out at him as they took their seats again, this time waiting to see Unique.

-?-

As Sam walked towards the Batcave he pretended that he was a Cold War-era spy with vital information he had to get back to his superiors for the safety of the free world. He tried to walk nonchalantly down the corridor while keeping an eye out for other people. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Puck and his posse turn a corner.

 _It's Puckov!_ Sam thought to himself, thoroughly entertained.  _He can't see me! I have to get out of this corridor or I'll lead him straight to the safehouse!_ Sam then quietly turned left and walked up to a bulletin board and pretended to read some notices, watching the reflection from the glass to keep an eye on Puckov and his minions.

When Puck walked past without seeing him, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, although he was also disappointed because he kinda wanted Puck to see him and nod at him or something so Sam could pretend he was keeping his cover. Sam was about to turn away when he saw Rachel and Kurt turn from the other end of his corridor. They hadn't noticed him yet and Sam quickly moved out of their sight. His heart really did start to beat rapidly because, unlike Puck, Rachel and Kurt  _would_  notice him and there was a good chance that they would expect him to hang out with them. It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel or Kurt, in fact he considered them to be very good friends, but the Batcave was a sanctuary, a place for quiet. While Rachel and Kurt were a lot of things, quiet wasn't one of them.

"Beritchnikov and Hummel," Sam growled to himself, secretly pleased that Kurt's last name was nice and German, "those traitors! If they see me, all would be lost."

He quickly moved down the corridor and turned to the unused corridor and quickly jogged down the length of it. He made one last check to the right and then pretended to tap in a sequence on the space beside the door and subvocalizing the sounds of the buttons being pressed. He made a "whissh" sound and opened the door and slipped inside. He was faced by a stack of risers and unused classroom chairs. He leaned in and closed one eye, letting the retina scanner confirm his identity before sighing at the completion of his mission.

He grinned as he walked towards the gap in the risers. He opened his mouth to greet Mike and tell him about how he dodged his tail when a sight greeted him that made the words die in his throat.

Mike was at his table, laptop in front of him typing away, but this wasn't what was unusual. What  _was_  unusual was  _Blaine_  on his knees, laying out a grid with index cards. In fact, the room had index cards on three parts of the floor, on the blackboard and they had somehow taken two freestanding white boards which now stood against the risers, completely covered in writing.

Blaine saw Sam and he grinned up at him. He had a pencil behind one ear and a piece of blu tack on his cheek.

"Hi Sam," Blaine said in greeting before laying down the last index card on the floor.

"Um, hi," Sam said confused. Not that he minded that Blaine was in the Batcave, not really. Blaine was the kind of guy who'd appreciate what it meant. But Sam had been meaning to talk to Mike about letting Blaine in here and that was what was bugging him;  _he_  wanted to be the one to introduce Blaine to the Batcave. Trying very hard to swallow the unfamiliar feeling of resentment, he tried to act casually, "what are you guys doing?"

Blaine stood up from the ground and was studying his grid as he answered Sam. "Well this bit here is our project in AP Chemistry with Mrs Pendergast. We were working in the library but we quickly realized we needed the space so Mike took me to your way awesome Batcave."

"'Batcave'?" Sam repeated and couldn't help giving Mike a look of betrayal. Mike lifted one brow at him and Sam realized that Mike hadn't told Blaine at the same time as Blaine said, "Well of course it is! What else could it be?"

"Anyway," Blaine continued, "that bit over there is our study notes for History, that side is our project in Mr Clemens' class, this here is AP Calc and over here is our extra credit assignment with Ms Stoger."

"Just how many classes do you guys share anyway?" Sam asked, a little more jealous, though now he wasn't sure if it was directed at Blaine for spending so much time with Mike, or the other way around.

"I think we're pretty much in all the same classes," Blaine replied.

Sam nodded and walked over to one of the whiteboards and looked. This one was a three-way comparison between Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings movies and the Harry Potter movies. There seemed to be a rather complicated formula that was supposed to calculate the coolness factor of the movies and Sam was surprised that he could actually follow it. The Lord of the Rings had a substantial lead in points, naturally, but Star Wars--Mike was a diehard fan, one of his few flaws, Sam thought--was edging out Harry Potter.  _Well_ , Sam thought,  _we can't have that_. He picked up a marker and added what he thought were some points and, applying the formula, increased the lead of HP.

"Oh, hey, that's  _good_ ," Blaine said from beside him, almost making Sam jump, "I didn't think of those points. Thanks Sam!" Blaine grinned up at him. Sam could feel Mike's hard stare, so he turned to him and winked.

"Sorry Mike, but you have to admit, Ron might have been a bit of a douche sometimes, but he scores extra points for bagging the hottest chick in the series. Plus he destroyed a Horcrux. Jar Jar only succeeded in making every single person on Earth hate his guts."

"I hate to disagree with you Mike, but Sam is absolutely right," Blaine said in support.

Mike rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he was working on. Sam turned to Blaine with a smile. The resentment that was building up in him died away. Why should he be resentful anyway? Mike was one of his best friends and Blaine was quickly becoming the other one. He had planned on bringing Blaine in here eventually, so what if Mike beat him to the punch? And Blaine just proved he belonged. Not because he also thought that Star Wars was overrated, cool definitely but still overrated, but because he thought that a comparative study of it was just as important as his project in AP Chem was with Mike.

He reached up to Blaine's face and he saw Blaine's eyes widen. "Wait," Sam said, "there's something..." He reached forward and gently scraped away the blu tack on Blaine's cheek. "There, all gone."

"Um," Blaine cleared his throat. "Thanks Sam."

"No problem," Sam said with a smile and went to his desk. Pleased to see a third one there with Blaine's bag on it. He pulled out his English homework and started working on it. He was suddenly glad that he now had two brilliant friends to help him out.

"Hey Blaine," Sam spoke up, "we can continue our tutoring here, can't we?"

Blaine grinned back. "Absolutely."

Sam grinned and went back to work; all was right in his world again.

-?-

Friday afternoon was the first official competitive lacrosse game of the season. Blaine was nervous.

The team had been subtly bullying him over the last few weeks, doing stupid, petty things, really. They'd taken his clothes while he was in the shower and hidden them, not realising that he had a spare set in his gym locker (saving him the humiliation of running through the school in nothing but a towel). They'd force him to bench by himself during team meetings, even if it meant that one or more of them would be practically seated in each others' laps. They'd play keep away during practice, taking advantage of Coach Beiste's distraction wherever possible. Really, they were just trying to unnerve him, make him feel apart from the team.

He didn't let it that bother him, though. He'd been through worse.

Instead he was nervous about taking to the field in front of spectators. It wasn't like performing on a stage, where every moment was choreographed and rehearsed. No, the field was a different setting altogether. No matter how many times they practiced, no matter how long they trained, there were always variables, they would always be forced to think on their feet, improvising plays and responding to the situations the other team put them in.

"Okay, boys! I want to see a clean game," Coach said during their final huddle. "Run through the plays we practiced. And for the love of God, put your petty crap aside and work as a  _team_! Anderson, you're on face-off!"

Blaine nodded and pulled his helmet on, mouthguard already in place. He took his position, heedless of the jeers from his teammates as he hunched forward. The whistle blew and soon enough everything became a flurry of motion and yelling, lacrosse sticks clacking together as players battled for the ball.

With thirty seconds left to the game, they found themselves at a draw. Coach had been pulling on the fly substitutions all game, trying to find a workable combination of players and positions, screaming at the other boys to pull their heads out of their asses and pass to Blaine if he was open because it was obvious they'd been trying to avoid including him, despite her initial pep-talk.

Blaine somehow found himself with the ball, and he raced it towards their goal with the speed and agility that had landed him the Captain position at Dalton. However, he found himself boxed in by defensive players and skirted his eyes around, trying to find an opening.  _There!_ Lipoff was free. Twisting just so, he called the other boy's name and lobbed a pass, landing it with accuracy before the other team--or Lipoff--had even realised what was happening.

Coach was leaping about on the sidelines. "Aim for the goal!" She cried, gesturing wildly. "The  _goal_ , Lipoff!"

He took aim and swung, the ball sailing quickly towards its intended destination, the whistle blowing less than a second after it bypassed the goalkeeper.

The McKinley players stood stunned for a moment, before erupting into a roar, engulfing Lipoff in a group hug, sans Blaine.

"Puckerman!" Shannon called before Puck could leave the field, the rest of the team already well on their way to the locker rooms. "What the hell was that?"

"We won the game?" Puck replied uncertainly.

It was all she could do to restrain herself from cuffing him upside the head. "I thought we had an understanding," she grit out. "Instead I just watched you and the other guys play a game of keep away from Anderson instead of running  _any_ of the plays we trained for.  _And_ instead of taking the openings he gave you, every single one of you looked like you'd rather stay at the bottom of the ladder this season." She took a deep breath and glared at him, pleased that he was looking at least a tiny bit repentant. "I thought I made myself very clear when we spoke. I can't...no...I  _won't_  have a team act like this. We  _won't_ be the laughing-stock of the Ohio school district just because you're a bunch of stubborn, pigheaded,  _ignorant_ little boys!"

Puck frowned. Didn't he have better things to be talking about? Coach Beiste must have seen his petulance in his expression, because her large hand slapped down hard upon her own thigh, the sharp sound causing him to flinch.

"Damn it, Puckerman! What do I have to do to get through to you? Anderson is a valuable member of our team. Without him, we woulda' lost tonight's game. Does that mean  _anything_ to you?"

"Coach--" he started, but she wasn't finished, obviously one step ahead of him.

"I know you've let up on the physical stuff like we talked about," Shannon sighed, disappointed that she was actually having to revisit this issue, "but the psychological crap is just as bad and it stops  _now_. I want you to watch him play, Noah.  _Really_ watch him play. Because, believe it or not, whether he likes girls or boys has nothing to do with how he does on the field. And my priority is still making sure you guys perform as a team." She waited a moment, allowing that information to sink in. "Think about it, Puckerman. Is this bigotry worth losing games over?" Arms folded across her chest she glowered at him. "I'm repeating myself for the last time now; I'm not afraid to start benching guys if this crap against Anderson continues. Spread the word," she instructed, assuming (correctly) that he was the ringleader, "because the next time this happens? I'm benching  _you_  first."

Puck's eyes widened. "What? But--"

"There aren't any 'but's about it, Puckerman. You don't start acting like a proper team, I'm gonna go out and build me a better one."

He sighed, knowing there would be no arguing with her. Not today, and not about Anderson. "Yes Coach," he said, nodding stiffly and turning to leave.

"Oh, and Puckerman?"

He paused mid-stride and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Yeah?" Her eyes narrowed and he quickly amended, "I mean, yes Coach?"

"You've usually got a pretty good head on your shoulders. I want to start seeing that Puckerman on my field again."

As Coach Beiste was the only adult in his life--outside of his Ma--who had ever expressed any sort of belief in him, he found that her words penetrated a lot deeper than any other teacher's might have. He wasn't pussying-out or anything, but he respected Beiste, and he'd already promised Sam that he'd back off from Blaine; this would just be an extension on that. He nodded, this time a little more easily. "Yes Coach."

She seemed to be assessing him, before offering him a tight, but genuine, smile. "Good boy."

When Puck finally entered the locker room Lipoff was talking up his victorious shot, basking in the glory of being the star player. "You could all learn from me," he boasted.

Puck snorted and shrugged out of his jersey, rifling through his locker for a clean shirt. "Dude, when Anderson gave you the assist, you didn't even know which way was up."

"Yeah!" Another of the boys grunted, cogs turning in his head. "You wouldn't have even had that shot if Anderson hadn't managed to wrangle free and lob that pass. Looked pretty difficult to me."

Lipoff was scowling now. "It was a  _lucky_  pass," he sniffed dismissively. "Anyone coulda' done it.  _I_ still made the winning goal."

"Only 'cos the fairy gave it to you," a fourth boy leered. "He your boyfriend now?"

The rest of the team chortled.

From somewhere further down the line of lockers, Coleman sniggered. "You gonna take him into the showers and show him how thankful you are?"

Lipoff was turning an alarming shade of puce. Blaine, standing silent and at his locker as far away from the group as possible, almost felt sorry for Lipoff, until he remembered that he was one of his main tormentors and deserved a little karma. He shifted his gaze away from the mounting confrontation, focusing on getting himself dressed and out of the locker room before they moved their attention onto him. He would shower at home.

As he pulled on his shirt, his eyes caught Puck's and he looked away quickly, before realising that the other guy was staring at him. It was unnerving; the look being sent his way was intense and smouldering. If Puck wasn't such an ass, Blaine would even deign to say the near-aggressive expression was hot. However, because Puck  _was_  an ass, it could only spell trouble in Blaine's book.

-?-

Sam was waiting outside the locker room when Blaine emerged, and scanned him over to make sure that none of the other guys had roughed him up. Thankfully, Blaine was too surprised by the blond's presence to take notice of what he was doing.

"Sam! What are you doing here? School let out  _ages_  ago."

"I stayed for the game," Sam replied. "Which you totally kicked ass in. No way would we have won if you hadn't managed that assist near the end."

Blaine ducked his head. Sure, it was one thing to know it (even to hear the guys teasing Lipoff about it), another altogether to be genuinely praised by a friend. He shrugged. "It was nothing, really. A fluke."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You were awesome. Stop pretending to be modest."

The shorter boy laughed. "Okay, fine, I rocked. Are you happy now?"

"Extremely," Sam nodded, slinging his arm around Blaine's shoulders. "So...I was thinking--"

"Uh oh, that's dangerous."

There was a pause. "Are you done?" Blaine nodded. "Good. So, I was thinking we should hang out."

"We're hanging out now..."

"No, I mean outside of school. Like, I don't know, go to the mall or something."

Blaine laughed. "And  _I'm_ the gay one."

"Dude," Sam almost whined, "I'm being serious. We never hang out, other than at school and when you're tutoring me, and I'd like to do some normal friend stuff."

"Well..." Blaine stalled, internally panicking. He'd told himself that it would be okay to have friends at school, he'd even started letting down his guard around them instead of just acting the part. But he'd told himself that he'd never let people in again, that he'd never wind up back in the position he'd found himself in when he'd left Dalton, and Sam was bordering on the edge of that. "My schedule's pretty busy. You know, with work and everything..."

Sam's expression morphed into something akin to that of a wounded puppy, and Blaine found himself talking without thinking.

"I mean, I could probably ask for the afternoon off tomorrow."

"Really?" The kicked puppy was suddenly a hyperactive one. Eyes bright and goofy grin in place, Sam fist pumped. "Excellent!"

Blaine sighed. Would meeting Sam at the mall really be any different to seeing him at school? It was just a change of scenery; his initial resolve could still stand. Quirking his lips into a smirk, he teased, "So, who can I thank for giving you sugar?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. Mostly because Loki wrote half of it. And Loki is awesome. I suck at writing Mike and he's, like, a Mike-Writing God, so it worked out nicely for me. :)


	7. Chapter 7

The Lima Mall was nothing out of the ordinary. About a hundred specialty stores, a Macy's, a Target, a cinema and a food court, but even Blaine had to admit that it was nice to get out and go somewhere different for the afternoon. He'd insisted that they meet at the mall, not wanting to risk Sam finding out that he lived alone, because then he'd have to explain  _why_. And, as friendly as he was being, Blaine wasn't willing to let anyone get that close.

So they had met at the mall and had a late lunch, Sam using his employee discount at DQ to score them a couple of cheap shakes. Then they'd wandered the stores, neither in the financial position to spend a lot of money, just content to hang out and window shop.

"You know, dude, if you wanna look at clothes I'm not gonna freak out..." Sam said as they meandered past another clothing store.

Blaine laughed, "I'm not really a fashion-aholic like Kurt. I'm more inclined to spend my money on music."

"And bow ties," Sam flicked the one Blaine was currently wearing for emphasis.

"Yeah, okay, guilty as charged," the shorter boy shrugged. "But I've promised myself--and Rachel--that I will limit myself to only buying one new one a week. I ordered a neon yellow one on eBay last night, so..." He sighed dramatically. "I have to be strong."

Sam chuckled before coming to a stop outside the music store. "Hey," he tugged at Blaine's shirt sleeve, "isn't that Jeff? And, oh, Nick! Hey guys!" He waved, oblivious to Blaine tensing beside him. "Over here!"

The other two boys shared a look that confused Sam, before wilfully ignoring him. He turned to say something to Blaine, only to notice the shut-down, guarded look on his friend's face. It was a look he hadn't seen since before they'd started their tutoring sessions, and he didn't like it one bit. "Blaine?" He asked, sensing that something had gone horribly, horribly off-kilter. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blaine's tone was icy, and he was still glaring in the direction of the two Warblers he'd once been so close to.

"Dude, I call bullshit on that. What's going on?"

Blaine turned his frown onto his friend. "I said nothing, Sam, drop it."

"No!" The blond's exclamation was louder than he'd intended it to be, but he was holding firm. Lowering his voice, he tried to lead Blaine towards the Dalton boys. "Blaine, come on, they were your friends. It can't be that bad. I'm sure you'll all laugh about whatever it is you're freaking over right now."

Blaine pulled his arm back. "I can't, Sam. I...I can't."

"Wait... _Blaine_!" Sam called as his friend turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Blaine couldn't concentrate. Hell, he could hardly breathe, his anxiety skyrocketing to a level he hadn't realised was actually possible. He just wanted to keep running, avoiding the past that haunted him. He'd known going to the mall was a bad idea! And this just proved it. And so he ran, racing past other shoppers and carts and strollers, unaware that Sam was hot on his heels.

When Sam watched Blaine disappear around another corner--just how many did this tiny mall of theirs have, anyway?--and heard a crashing sound and an exclamation of pain, he knew things had just gone from bad to worse. He rounded the corner to find Blaine splayed out on the floor in front of an upturned shopping cart, an elderly lady hovering above him, admonishments flowing from the tip of her tongue.

"Blaine," Sam said, crouching beside his friend, ignoring the woman's tirade about irresponsible youth. "Dude, are you okay?"

Blaine nodded shakily, clearly on the verge of an emotional collapse as he pulled himself into a seated position, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. "I'm fine," he said, sounding anything but, and then looked up at the lady. "I'm so sorry," he apologised. "I'll pay for anything I damaged, I don't know what got into me. I just...I needed..." He looked at Sam beseechingly. "I couldn't stay there."

"Aww, B," Sam sighed, rubbing Blaine's back soothingly. "It's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed."

"You didn't know..."

Sam still felt guilt churning in his belly. He straightened up and helped to right the cart, assisting the woman with her purchases. Thankfully, it didn't appear that anything was broken. She still huffed at them and carried on her way, casting snide glances over her shoulder before finally making her way around the corner.

The blond extended his hand to his friend, intent on helping him to stand. That plan was shot to hell when Blaine tried to set his right foot on the ground, hissing in pain. "I've totally screwed my ankle up," he managed, blinking back a few rogue tears. "Damn it."

"Okay, let's get you to a seat so I can take a look at it," Sam rationalised, hooking his arm around Blaine's waist and encouraging the shorter boy to support most of his weight against him. They hobbled over to the nearest bench and he lowered Blaine down gently, kneeling in front of him. A number of filthy jokes crossed his mind but, seeing the exhaustion and worry creasing Blaine's brow, he kept them to himself. Gingerly he inspected the injury, wincing in sympathy at the already pronounced swelling. "Definitely looks like a sprain to me, man. You won't be walking on that for a while." He looked up, meeting Blaine's eyes. "Did you drive here?"

Blaine nodded, swallowing roughly, already wondering what was going to happen to him at school on Monday, when the team realised he'd be useless to them. Uninjured he could defend himself, out-maneuver and outrun them, but like this? He'd be a sitting duck.

"Okay. I got the bus 'cause Mom needed her car today, so I'll go grab some first aid stuff. We'll get this iced quickly, see if we can't get the swelling down a bit. Then you're gonna give me your keys and I'll take you home. We'll work everything else out later, okay?"

Blaine nodded again, then froze, staring at his friend's retreating form in horror. Sam was going to drive him home? That was bad! Because then Sam would see where he lived.  _How_  he lived. Namely, the fact that he was alone. And then he'd have to tell Sam  _why_  he was alone...and, oh God, this was bad. This was so, so bad.

But what other choice did he have? He couldn't leave his car here at the mall, and he certainly couldn't drive it himself right now. And there wasn't anyone else he wanted to reveal his secrets to.

Not that he particularly wanted to reveal his secrets to Sam either.

And he was right back at the having no choice portion of his freak out.

He supposed that he kind of owed an explanation to the other boy, though. After the way he'd just taken off like that, overreacting to seeing two of their former peers, Sam wouldn't just let that slide. Blaine had been completely freaked-out and uncharacteristically skittish. Sam would want to know why, even if he didn't have to take Blaine home and discover that there was even more to the story.

By the time Sam came back, a bag from Walgreens tucked under his arm, Blaine had calmed and composed himself, hoping that he could convince Sam to just leave him outside the main apartment building once he took him home. But luck was not on his side. After a torturous hobble to the car, Sam drove towards Blaine's address with caution, paying careful attention to all the directions as they were given.

"Which floor are you on?" He asked when they pulled up.

Blaine bit his lip. "Uh, top floor. The roof, actually. There's a small apartment up there." Very small. Tiny, even.

Sam frowned. "And the elevator, does it--"

Blaine snorted. "There aren't any elevators. Period." Then he realised his mistake.  _Shit_. "Uh, I mean," he started to backpedal lamely.

"Dude, it's like...three stories. Plus the roof. There's no way you're making it up all those flights of stairs on your own." Sam shook his head, misinterpreting Blaine's anxiety. "I'm not gonna judge your family for living in an apartment, B. When Dad first lost his job, we crammed the entire family into a single room at the Motel 6."

Sighing in resignation, the shorter boy shrugged. "This is kind of like that..." In the sense that all that family that Blaine had left was living in a studio apartment.

"Well I've been there, dude," Sam said, having walked around the car to the passenger side. He opened Blaine's door and considered the best way to help him out. With as little jostling as possible, he soon had Blaine's arm around his neck, his own arm wrapped securely around Blaine's waist as he'd done earlier. He locked the car awkwardly with his spare hand before using it to keep Blaine's arm in place. "Okay, ready?"

 _No_. "Yes." Blaine steeled himself for the long and painful walk ahead.

By the time they'd made it to the third floor, Blaine could barely remain upright. His ankle was throbbing and he was starting to panic the closer they got to the roof.

"This isn't working, is it?" Sam asked as Blaine tensed and winced, sucking in a sharp breath. "Right. New plan." And, before Blaine knew it, he was lifted bridal-style by a pair of very toned arms.

"So," Sam said easily, as if carrying Blaine took as little effort as carrying a bag of groceries. "How long have you lived here?"

Blushing because he was starting to notice just how attractive and strong his friend was, Blaine swallowed. "Umm, around the same time I started at McKinley."

"Makes sense," Sam nodded, taking the last few stairs in his stride. "Can you reach the handle?" He asked as they made it to the door that led to the roof. Blaine rolled his eyes.

"You can put me down now, Sam. I can make it the rest of the way on my own."

"Nuh uh, man, that's not how my Mama raised me," he affected a strong Southern accent for emphasis.

One of Blaine's eyebrows arched upwards as he leaned down and worked the handle, pushing the door open. "Your mother raised you to carry boys to their front door? I need to meet this woman."

Sam laughed, relieved that Blaine's sense of humour seemed to be on the mend, even if his ankle wasn't. It was a sign that things would be okay.

The former utility shed stood a few feet away, and Sam frowned at it. There was no way it was large enough to house a family of three. He was willing to bet it barely fit one bed. Still, he had shared a bed with his siblings for a few months, so it was entirely possible that this was all the Andersons had to work with.

"Uh, my keys are in your pocket," Blaine said. "You can let me down now."

Sam complied this time, fishing the keys from his pocket and opening the door, lifting Blaine back up before the other boy had any brainwaves about testing his ankle.

Blaine couldn't help himself and took a deep breath when the door to his apartment opened.

 _Here it goes_ , he thought, anticipating Sam's outburst, his pity...but he was stupid if he actually thought he could keep it quiet forever. He was in a mall in Lima and ran into Jeff and Nick of all people.

"Wow, pretty spartan, dude," Sam muttered.

Blaine was sure the only reason he'd heard him was because his ear was near Sam's mouth.

 _I guess you could call the place co_ _z_ _y,_ Sam thought as he took it all in. He was met with pretty much one room that housed a bed, wardrobe, table and an almost-kitchen, and another closed door on the other side of the bed suggested that there might be a bathroom. He blinked. This was even smaller than the motel room had been.

Sam walked the two feet separating the door from the bed and gently lowered Blaine down. Blaine couldn't help but release the breath he'd been holding. Sam turned to him in concern.

"I'm sorry! Did I put you down too hard? Did I hurt you?"

Blaine waved Sam off. "Nah, I was, um, letting out a breath when you put me down. Don't worry about it."

With a skeptical expression on his face, Sam walked to Blaine's fridge and took out the ice tray. Looking around quickly, he smiled when he saw the hamper of clean, folded laundry on top of the kitchen table and helped himself to a tea-towel. He wrapped the ice in it, grabbed a glass of water and walked back to the bed.

He handed Blaine the glass and pulled out the package from Walgreens from his jacket. "Here," he said handing the other boy a small bottle of over the counter ibuprofen. "These should take care of the pain and some of the swelling until you see a doctor."

Blaine thanked him, opened the bottle and drank two of the pills down while Sam crouched down for closer inspection of the injury. The blond frowned as he tried to lift Blaine's trouser leg up. Finally he huffed in exasperation. "Dude, how do you get into these things? They're so tight!"

"What?" Blaine asked stupidly.

"Your pants," came the response from over the edge of the bed. "I need to see your ankle and put ice on it but they're ridiculously pasted on your legs. C'mon, you better take them off."

"Um, Sam..."

"Don't worry, I'll help. I can't see how you'll be able to get them off without straining your ankle." He stood back up and loomed over his friend, hands moving to the belt buckle on Blaine's jeans.

The curly-haired boy blushed and panicked. "I got it!" He said quickly and, before thinking it through, had unbuckled his belt and allowed Sam to help him shimmy out of his pants. In any other scenario, this would have been something for him to relish, but, right now, he was embarrassed and in pain, which was probably staving off any remnants of arousal he might otherwise have felt courtesy of his teenage hormones.

Blaine couldn't help the blush that heated his face and neck, but Sam was right; he did need help getting out of his pants. He thanked the gay gods that he was wearing his favourite pair of Versace boxer briefs today so he didn't feel too exposed.

"Tight leg muscles there, B, but I don't know why I'm surprised, considering you're a monster lacrosse player."

Blaine was thankful that Sam was examining his ankle, missing his blush deepening at the compliment.

Sam gingerly touched the ankle before gently applying the cold compress. "I'm no doctor, but it doesn't look that bad. I've seen way worse that the doctor said were minor injuries. Don't take my word for it though."

"Thanks Sam," Blaine replied, reaching down and holding on to the compress. "I got this."

Sam got up and looked around finally seeing the place. Then a frown formed on his expressive face. "Um, Blaine..."

 _Here it comes_ , Blaine thought.

"Where do your parents sleep?"

 _And here we go_ , Blaine sighed. "At their house."

Sam blinked. "Wait...what?"

"I'm emancipated from my parents, Sam. I live alone."

The blond's expression morphed into one of confusion. "But..." He started, before stopping. Obviously something big had happened to force Blaine to leave his family and strike out on his own. It wasn't his place to push, he'd learned that lesson the hard way. Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. "Is this why you didn't want me to bring you home?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah."

Sam looked around again, a lazy smile taking over his face. "Dude...this is  _awesome_!"

Having expected more questions, it was now Blaine's turn to blink. "What? Really?"

Sam bounded up on to the bed beside him, seemingly forgetting that only one of them was fully clothed. "Think about it! You're on your own!" Sam's enthusiasm was reaching new heights as he gestured wildly around the room. "No curfew! No parents! Total privacy..." His eyes glazed over. "Imagine the possibilities! This is every teenage guy's dream."

"Oh, you are  _not_  bringing any girls to my apartment, Sam."

"Not even Rachel?"

"Do you want to sleep with Rachel?"

Sam made a face. It wasn't that Rachel wasn't hot, because she was, but...eww. That'd be like screwing his sister. "God no."

"Then Rachel can visit," Blaine was surprised by his own allowance. He'd been so determined to keep this a secret, but confiding in Sam had been like a weight lifting from his shoulders. Maybe his other McKinley friends would be the same?

Sam grinned, then the expression fell. "Oh...but then it can't be our own Fortress of Solitude..."

Blaine snorted. "Fortress of Solitude?"

"Like Superman! Only not quite so...solitude-y. And no girls. Boys only."

"Uh..." Blaine smirked. "Not really a problem for me."

Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed. "Not what I meant and you know it."

Blaine could only shrug.

They sat in silence for a few more seconds, before Sam's eyes gleamed in excitement again. "Dude!" he proclaimed, "you can play Xbox as loud as you want!"

"I don't have an Xbox, Sam," Blaine sighed. "Or a TV."

The blond's expression drooped again momentarily, before he shook his head. "We'll work on that," he promised with a grin.

"Whatever you say, Sam."

Some more comfortable silence passed between them, and then Sam cleared his throat. "How are you planning on getting up and down those stairs everyday?"

Blaine shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "I'm sure I'll manage."

"Dude..."

"No. Really, Sam, I'll be fine."

Sam frowned. If Blaine had someone to help, sure, but he was on his own. "Look, why don't you come stay at my place for a few--"

"I'm not your charity case!" Blaine snapped vehemently.

The blond held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine, it was just a suggestion." He thought for a moment, a plan formulating in his mind. "Actually, I've got it. Seeing as you can't drive, and I'm sick of borrowing Mom's, I'm going to take your car until you can. And, as payment, I will be your personal chauffeur. No arguments."

Blaine rolled his eyes but nodded his reluctant agreement, plotting his own scheme silently.

"And I'm officially crashing here tonight," Sam declared. "There's no way you can go anywhere on that ankle just yet, so I'm gonna stick around. Even if it's just to make sure you get to the bathroom without falling flat on your face."

Blaine frowned. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Good," came the quick retort, "because you don't have one. You've got a friend, Blaine. You want that ankle to heal up quickly? You'll accept my help."

Blaine's determination to prove Sam wrong grew even more. "But--"

"Nope. No buts." Sam pulled out his phone, dialling a familiar number as he settled up against the headboard of the bed. "Now, what's your favourite pizza?"

-?-

True to his word, Sam stuck around all night, helping Blaine to and from the bathroom (despite his very vocal protests) and then to and from work the next day. On Monday morning, Sam pulled up outside Blaine's building and scowled when he found Blaine waiting for him downstairs. Oh, he decided, it was  _so_  on! Blaine clearly thought he was being clever. However, he underestimated just how determined Sam could be.

On Tuesday, Blaine opened his front door to find Sam waiting for him, ready to help him down the stairs. He allowed it and, on Wednesday morning, got up an hour earlier to once again beat Sam at this strange battle of wills they'd started. He was proud of himself all day, until the time came for Sam to drop him back off at home. They made it all the way up to Blaine's door before Sam grinned at him.

"So, I'm crashing here again tonight," he says simply.

"What?  _Why_?" Not that Blaine didn't secretly enjoy sharing his bed with the adonis, but still. Sam was straight. And it was the principle of the thing.

"Well, since you obviously are too pigheaded--"

"Hey!"

"--to realise that you need help down the stairs, I'm just going to cut to the chase and sleep here to make sure I'll be here to stop you from doing something stupid."

" _Sam_..."

"You aren't weak, B, even when you ask for help. Besides, by letting me help, your ankle is gonna heal up faster." He gave Blaine a one armed hug of reassurance. "Just like I told you on Saturday. You're not incompetent and I'm not babysitting you. I'm just being a friend. You'd do the same for me, right?"

Blaine gave this some serious contemplation, hating to actually acknowledge that Sam was right. "Yeah," he eventually admitted. "I probably would."

Sam beamed, his smile practically lighting up the room as he fist pumped. "Woohoo!" He trilled happily. "Night two in the Fortress of Solitude is a go."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "You're  _such_  a nerd." He shook his head. "First the Batcave, now the Fortress of Solitude...What's next? Go for the full set and get our very own Paradise Island?"

"Hmm..." Sam made a show of pretending to give it some thought. "An island of bikini babes? Would I want that? Uh,  _duh_ , that's a no brainier, Blainers." He seemed proud of his little rhyme, but then frowned. "But that would totally break your no girls rule."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "It's a modern version of the Island, Sam." He said matter-of-factly. "So there'd be some eye candy for me, too.

The blond nodded and then realised what this would mean. "Hey! No! You can't do that to  _my_ Paradise Island! Besides, the Amazons can't have men around if they want to live forever. It's all part of the legend."

"It's  _our_ Paradise Island," the other boy corrected, not caring at all about staying within the rules of the DC universe. "Unless  _you_  want to get out of  _our_ Fortress of Solitude." He tried not to dwell too much on the thrill he had in calling his apartment 'theirs' in any capacity.

Sam sobered quickly. "Okay," he acquiesced. "Point made." He waited a beat. "But  _your_ underwear models better keep their hands off  _my_  bikini babes, or we'll be having words."

Blaine snorted, ignoring the surrealism of the conversation, enjoying playing along childishly. "If they are really  _mine_ , Sam, your women have nothing to worry about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at Chapter 7 already! How fast has that flown? This is my favourite chapter, I think. I know, I say that a lot, but this one has it all. Drama, humour, plot development...I'm really happy with it.
> 
> As per usual, Loki Firefox -the genius- is responsible for a lot of the plotting and characterisation. Without him, my Blam would look like a trainwreck.
> 
> I can't wait for your feedback! You have no idea how motivating a review can be. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine's ankle was still giving him hell on Friday, especially once it came time for lacrosse. He'd skived off practice on Monday afternoon (it hadn't been a huge stretch of the truth to go home 'sick'), but found that he couldn't do it again without Coach Beiste losing it at him. At least it was just training and not a game this week, so he could hopefully limp around without anyone taking notice. Sam was sitting in the grandstands, watching over the quad, still in possession of Blaine's car.

Practice dragged, Blaine finding it harder and harder to keep up the charade that he was in perfect condition, every step he landed sending shockwaves of searing pain up his wrapped ankle and through his entire body. He glanced up into the bleachers to see Sam frowning in concern and shook his head; he didn't want anyone saying anything. The only reason the guys had let up on him was his ability on the field. If they found out he was injured, he'd be fair game. And he'd be vulnerable because no way could he box properly--or run away quickly enough--in the state he was in.

By the time he hobbled into the locker room, he was exhausted and his nerves were frayed. So naturally he found half the team waiting on him.

"Hey Queer Eye," Lipoff sneered, incensed because the others were  _still_ giving him flak about the previous week's game. "What took you so long? We were worried."

 _I'll bet you were._  Blaine held his tongue, reminding himself that he couldn't run. In fact, just standing normally was killing him. He averted his eyes and tried to just walk past his tormentor. Sadly, it appeared that wasn't going to happen.

"Hey _,_ jackass, I'm talking to you," Lipoff snapped, standing directly in front of his target, taking up all the room in the entryway.

Blaine sighed and looked up at him. "Fuck off, Lipoff."

A few of the surrounding guys chuckled at his temerity. One of them nudged Lipoff. "You gonna let your boytoy talk to you like that?  _You're_  the man in this relationship, right?"

Lipoff ground his teeth, his ire building and focusing on Blaine. "Shut the fuck up." The command was directed at the entire lot of them. As they sobered, realising that they'd pushed him a little too far, he smirked at Blaine. "I noticed Evans out there on the bleachers watching you. You're close, aren't you?" He bent down, his face inches from Blaine's, spittle from his lips landing on Blaine's cheek. "You turn Evans? Make him your little butt buddy? You're both from that faggy ass private school, aren't you? Who's the bitch, Anderson? My money's on  _you_."

Blaine's heart was pumping at ten times its usual rate as he managed to skirt around the other boy and walk to his locker, fighting to contain his temper. He was actually biting his tongue to prevent the words from slipping out, even as the bigger, menacing teen followed him. Lipoff's next sentence blew his resolve to hell.

"In fact," the taller jock put his hands against Blaine's chest and shoved him hard into the lockers, the sound echoing off the tiles around them, a bruise sure to form on Blaine's shoulder from where he connected with a padlock. "I heard that entire school made you their bitch."

Now that he'd been physically provoked, Blaine's fist flew before he could stop it, clocking Lipoff across the jaw. There was a collective gasp, then pandemonium broke out, fists and insults flying.

A shrill whistle broke through the din, Coach Beiste and Sam diving into the fray, grabbing Lipoff and Blaine respectively, dragging them apart while the other guys scattered like rodents.

"You two! My office!" Shannon cried, her face beet red with her fury. " _Now_!"

-?-

Shannon sat Blaine down on the bench outside her office, shoving Lipoff inside and slamming the door behind them. Sam paced across the floor in front of his friend.

"What the hell happened?" He asked in concern. "You  _just_ walked in. I was  _right_  behind you. There was maybe a minute between us."

Blaine shrugged, stretching out his right hand and wincing a little. At least the pain from punching Lipoff was a welcome distraction to the throbbing of his ankle.

Unimpressed with Blaine's silence, Sam continued. "What were you thinking, anyway? There were, like, six of them and one of you. And you're  _hurt_ , B. What if I hadn't been right behind you? What if Coach hadn't been right behind you?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I get that you're just being a good friend right now, Sam, but I'm not made of glass. Yeah, I'm gay, but I can handle myself just fine. I had everything under control."

The blond snorted. "What was your grand plan then? Let the six other guys whale on you until they got tired? Because if that was what you were aiming for then, yeah, you had it all under control."

Blaine folded his arms and huffed, reclining back against the wall, glaring at the ceiling. He didn't want to admit that Sam was right.

"Anderson, in my office," Beiste said curtly. She looked at Sam and was about to say something but gave him a quick nod instead and closed the door behind Blaine.

Sam finally released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He could see Lipoff in front of his locker, cleaning it out. It looked like Coach Beiste kicked him off the team. Sam would normally have approached him, maybe try to console him but Lipoff and his gang have been making Blaine's life hell since his first day, he couldn't really muster up any sympathy for him right now. Then Sam was worried, would Blaine suffer the same fate? Maybe to protect him, Beiste might just kick him off the team using the fight as an excuse. Sam didn't know if that would be good for Blaine or not. Sam sat there worried for his friend, not noticing Lipoff walking out of the locker room and leaving him alone.

-?-

"Sit down, Anderson," Beiste said, indicating the chair in front of her desk. She sat down in her chair and looked at Blaine. For a while she just sat there and looked at him. Blaine squirmed in his seat a bit; for some reason the thought of being kicked off the team hurt him. Sure the team didn't respect him and he could do with less aggravation, but he actually enjoyed playing lacrosse. And now he could see how stupid he'd been, allowing someone like Lipoff to make him lose his temper and jeopardize not only his record in school but his future.

"Anderson," Beiste began, "Blaine. This isn't what I had in mind when I told you to meet with me if the boys started hasslin' you."

She waited, apparently giving him a chance to speak up but Blaine didn't really have anything to say. Yes, he realized he could have told her but he didn't want to say that he didn't believe she could have done anything about it. Now, he thought, maybe she could have but he didn't give her the chance. What happened at Dalton really screwed him up. It made him really distrustful of people. He probably had to do something about that.

"Lipoff is off the team," Beiste said. Blaine's eyes grew wide as he waited for his sentence. "You're still on it," and Blaine's sigh of relief was loud but he didn't care if she heard it, "and only because I saw him shove you first but," and as she said that last word, she paused. Coach Beiste wanted to hammer home her point, "BUT consider yourself on probation. Another fight, I don't care who started it, you're out of here."

Knowing that he was still on the team, Blaine calmed down considerably, and, since his mind was no longer focused on being kicked out or on the fight, he started to think of how unfair it was. They started it! And that's right; Lipoff shoved him first! He should get him suspended for assault! He opened his mouth to speak but Beiste cut him off.

"How long have you been training?" She asked. The question threw him off.

"I'm sorry, Coach, but I don't understand..."

"Boxing," Beiste continued, "I saw you throw that punch. You know what you're doing. You're a south paw, right?" She smiled in response to Blaine's answering nod. "You have excellent form. How long have you been boxing?"

"About two years now, started around the end of my freshman year."

"Only? I'm impressed. You look like you've been to a few fights."

Blaine shrugged, remembering the First Rule of Fight Club. He should; he formed the club at Dalton.

"You're probably wondering why Lipoff got off lightly and you seem to be getting shafted again, aren't you?" She asked with a sigh.

Not trusting himself to speak, Blaine nodded instead.

"First understand something, if the team had continued physically abusing you like they did the first time I would not only have benched everyone involved, I would've kicked people out and probably had them suspended," Beiste said so forcefully that Blaine could not help but believe her. "But they didn't. They kept up the taunts and the pranks and, look kid, I admire your restraint but I couldn't step in. You wanna know why?"

"Yes," Blaine answered softly.

"Because you didn't complain. Unless someone actually makes a complaint I can't intervene. They could accuse me of favoritism, say that they were just horsing around or whatever crap they can think of to get out of it, and, for all I knew, you guys could have been. I wasn't just blowing smoke up your ass when I told you to let me know if they were giving you a hard time, it was so I could do something about it officially. But you didn't, you have your reasons why and since we're past that point I'm not going to ask why or dwell on it. We're going to deal with the dust up today." She pinned him with a hard stare, waiting for him to nod his understanding.

"Which brings us right back to boxing," she said and Blaine was curious why his ability to fight was so important to her. "You were angry Blaine, you have every right to be, but you were angry and you weren't holding back. You could have seriously hurt him and where would we be?"

Blaine blinked and could feel his stomach start to roil. So many adults had failed him recently that he had forgotten how it felt to disappoint someone he looked up to. He was remembering it now.

"You're a trained fighter," she continued, "so I'm gonna hold you to a higher standard than those yahoos. You coulda' walked away or tried to defuse that situation but you didn't. You decided to meet it head on even though you were outnumbered. That tells me you're angry and looking for a fight."

Coach Beiste dropped her eyes and sighed. "Blaine, I like you. I think you're a great kid with amazing potential. You can go really far but something is obviously eating at you and it's making you angry. You don't have to talk to me about it but you do have to talk to someone. Until you do, I have to protect my other boys, too," Blaine caught Coach Beiste's wry smirk at that statement and he couldn't help but smile a bit, too. "That's why you're on probation," she continued, "by the way you play, I think you like lacrosse enough that it will make you think twice when you find yourself in this situation again, right?"

"Yes coach," Blaine answered, a little louder than before.

"Now for the other matter," Beiste's voice was all seriousness. "I decided not to bring this fight up to Principal Figgins not to save Lipoff's ass but to save yours."

Blaine held his tongue, learning that Coach Beiste usually had a good reason for what she did. She noticed his silence and he could see her slight nod of approval, acknowledging how how well he was keeping his head. It felt good to get validation from someone he respected again.

"All your teachers have been told that you're filing for emancipation, and that you've been given special dispensation to live on your own while the paperwork is being processed. You got this privilege not just because you have an amazing GPA and have many achievements in Dalton, but because of your exemplary and  _clean_  record. This record is why you aren't in foster care right now. You're supposed to be responsible enough to be on your own until you are officially emancipated.

"What do you think is going to happen if I bring up this fight to Principal Figgins?" Beiste asked and Blaine began to understand what she had just done for him. "It becomes official and since you are technically a ward of the state they will have to become involved. Lipoff will probably get suspended but there's a good chance that your case will be reviewed, delaying the process. After all, if you're getting into fights how responsible can you be?"

Blaine slumped in his chair as he realised how close he had come to losing everything.

After letting him sit and think about it for a bit Coach Beiste really hammered it home. "Would you really risk everything to give Lipoff what I'm thinkin' is basically a slap on the wrist?"

"I understand that you're in a difficult place right now, Blaine," she added after a while, "and you've chosen to go at it alone. You probably have good reason to do that. I've seen your grades, so I know you're smarter than most people, but even I can see it's not working Blaine. You need help, you shouldn't be afraid to ask for it."

"I may be smarter, Coach," Blaine finally said, "but I've been really stupid. Thank you. For everything. For looking out for me."

Blaine could feel his throat tightening and his eyes beginning to burn. He didn't know if Coach noticed, but she nodded and got up from behind her desk. Blaine quickly wiped at his eyes when Coach Beiste walked past him to open the door.

"Remember Anderson," she said as she opened the door, "you're on probation. One more fight and you're out."

Blaine nods. "Thanks again, Coach."

"You're a good kid, Anderson," she said with a genuine smile on her face. "I don't know how much I can help, but you have it  _when_  you ask for it. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach."

She looked at him again, apparently finding whatever it was she was looking for, because she nodded again and then shut the door.

Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"What. The. Fuck."

 _Oh_   _yeah_ , Blaine suddenly remembered,  _Sam_.

The blond was in front of him in an instant, his expression concerned, tilting Blaine's chin up so that he could look him in the eye. "B, are you okay?"

Blaine looked wrecked, as though he might cry at any moment, and Sam didn't know what to say or do. He'd only seen Blaine like this once before--when he'd hurt his ankle--and those had been tears of physical pain, not emotional. Yeah, Sam could definitely tell the difference. He was so used to seeing Blaine get angry that this vulnerability threw him for a loop.

"Blaine, man, talk to me," he searched the hazel eyes worriedly. "What happened? Are you off the team?"

Shaking his head, Blaine tried to pull himself together. He was not having a meltdown here, in the middle of the locker room, in front of Sam. "No," he replied softly, clearing his throat, "I'm on probation, though."

Sam didn't know whether to be relieved or bothered by that. On the one hand it meant that Blaine would be happy, because he really enjoyed playing despite the crap the team gave him. But, on the other hand, it just meant that he was staying in the team's line of sight; if he were off the team, they'd forget all about him and he'd be exempt from the bullying, like Kurt and Unique were.

"But...Lipoff was kicked off?" he settled on asking, trying to sound curious and not confrontational. "And, yeah, he obviously started it, but he only shoved you. You threw the first punch..."

"But my record is exemplary," Blaine recited, sounding almost bitter about the fact. "So probation."

"And nobody is going to Figgins because...?"

Whatever surge of sadness Blaine had been experiencing before had now become frustration and he frowned, eyes flashing dangerously. "Because it's none of your business."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise.  _This_ was the Blaine he'd been expecting, but he hadn't expected such a quick shift in mood. "Whoa, dude," he said, holding up his hands in surrender and taking a step back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...it's just  _me_ , Blaine."

Blaine stopped and realised that he was doing it again: pushing people away. Pushing  _Sam_  away. He'd already let the blond in so much, and Coach was right; he was dealing with a lot of stuff and it was starting to take its toll on his temper and ability to rationalise. He'd promised her that he would find someone to talk to...and Sam was probably the only person he could think of right now that he'd be marginally comfortable enough with to do so. He let go of his anger at Sam with a huff, his shoulders slumping.

"Can we not do this here?" Blaine asked. Even though the school was long empty, he didn't want to risk anyone else possibly overhearing his story. He had enough on his plate to deal with than additional rumours circulating the school. "Take me home?"

The drive was silent and somewhat tense. Sam knew not to push Blaine, and Blaine knew that the conversation they were about to have was going to be unpleasant and emotionally draining. Sam parked the car and Blaine clamoured out, needing to put a little space between them so he could sort out his thoughts.

Sam frowned as Blaine hobbled down the path to the main door of the building, hastily locking the car and jogging after the shorter boy. "Dude, take it easy. You overdo it and you won't be able to play for weeks, let alone walk on your own."

Blaine took a deep breath and reminded himself once more that Sam was just being a friend. "You're right," he agreed, only slightly sullen, coming to a stop and allowing the blond to catch up.

Sam looped his arm around Blaine's waist in a way that had become second nature after a week of escorting him up to the roof. "You're so stubborn," he teased gently, before getting serious. "This would be so much easier if you just realised that I'm not letting you hurt yourself for the sake of holding up this strong and independent image you're going for."

"Sam..."

"No, B, you don't get it. We're friends. This is what friends do."

Blaine blinked and kept his eyes trained on his feet, careful with his footing as the mounted the first flight of stairs. "That's not what experience has taught me."

Sam hesitated, squeezing Blaine's waist in reassurance. "Then you've never had a real friend," he said simply.

Blaine didn't know how to respond to that, so the rest of the climb was spent in contemplation. Blaine was conflicted over Sam's statement. On the one hand, he felt privileged to have someone like Sam finally in his corner, but, on the other, he still felt that trusting someone else implicitly was a stupid move to make.

Sam, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly concerned for Blaine. How could someone as nice, smart and popular as him not have anyone to lean on? The soft, sad way he'd implied that he'd never had someone to rely on before cut Sam to the quick. Obviously Blaine had been hurt--emotionally--by so-called friends before, not to mention the fact that something had happened to force him to remove himself from his family and struggle on his own.

The timing of Blaine's move to McKinley, coupled with his reaction to seeing Jeff and Nick, suggested that the two issues were connected, and Sam could only hope that Blaine felt comfortable enough sharing the situation with him, because it was pretty obvious that he wasn't dealing, not well enough, anyway. Without conscious thought, his arm tightened around Blaine's waist. He was going to make sure that, no matter what, Blaine knew what it was like to have someone else to lean on without fear or guilt.

They came to Blaine's door and Blaine tensed, knowing that this was it. There'd be no more stalling, no more denying that anything was wrong. He'd tell Sam everything, even though it meant making himself more vulnerable to the blond. He kind of owed it to him for all the help and support he'd given already. He deserved to know why any of this was happening to begin with, right?

Sam's arm stayed where it was as he opened the door, leading Blaine to the table and only pulling away once the shorter boy was seated. He puttered around, grabbing a couple of glasses and a can of soda, and finally taking up a now familiar seat across from Blaine, not saying anything, just waiting.

After running his index finger over the rim of his glass, watching a trail of precipitation drizzle to the chipped tabletop, Blaine eventually sighed. "I was basically expelled from Dalton."

Caught off-guard by the statement, Sam spluttered around a mouthful of soda. Whatever he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "What?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I think I misheard you. Because you were pretty much literally their poster boy. What happened?"

"Well, technically I wasn't actually  _expelled_ ," Blaine continued as if the question hadn't been asked, "just given the option to leave or, well, leave."

"Okay..." Sam wondered if Blaine knew he wasn't making a whole lot of sense. He leant forward and reached for his friend's hand, forcing him to stop fidgeting and look across the table. "Why?"

"Sam..."

The blond wouldn't let him pull away. "Blaine. Why?"

"I..." He sighed. "I made some pretty stupid decisions."

"Yeah, good start. Now less vague."

Blaine bit his lip and considered his options. Honestly? He was tired. Tired of not having anyone to talk to. Tired of pretending that everything was fine. Tired of not being able to have a moment of weakness. Tired of feeling like every choice he made was a stupid one. And Sam seemed so genuine...if he was going to turn around and screw him over, it was going to happen whether Blaine told him his pathetic story or not.

"There was a prank. One of the lacrosse guys messed with a Junior's car stereo. I...I wasn't involved, really, but I covered for them. It was stupid. But the guy, he freaked out when he was driving and the volume kept going up when he tried to turn it down..." He shook his head. "He got distracted and took his eyes off the road and crashed. Some kid in town had their leg broken, a lot of city property was damaged..."

Sam could see where this was going. "They asked you about who was involved, right? And you, being a loyal friend, didn't want to snitch."

Blaine nodded. "It was supposed to be harmless."

"Okay. But that doesn't explain why you'd be asked to leave. Or why Nick and Jeff were so weird. Or why you live here alone." Sam pushed.

The shorter boy shrugged. "My parents...they weren't happy with me. So they, uh, they called the police and made a huge deal out of it. They said that in the real world, I'd have bigger consequences to deal with than a detention or whatever. I..." He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar sting of shame as he continued, "I panicked. I went to the guys on the team and begged them to come forward. Nobody would. They, uh," he rubbed at the back of his neck, "they thanked me for making it so easy for them to avoid humiliating their families. Hung me out to dry. And I let them."

Sam winced. "Because you're not a snitch."

Blaine offered him a wry smile. "Yeah. My parents flipped." He closed his eyes. "We had a huge fight. Next day, I went to school and I..." Oh, God, he hated this part the most. "I went to the Dean and I named names. I mean, they put a kid in the hospital; it was serious, right? The guys...well, by this stage they'd sort of guessed I might flip, so they got new alibis, I guess. So then it looked like I was lying to get out of trouble." He sighed. "The Dean called my parents in. And, hey, wouldn't you know it? Turns out ratting the guys out was even more cowardly than not ratting them out."

"Wait...what?" The blond was confused.

Blaine sneered and adopted an expression reminiscent of his father. "Dad said ' a  _real_  Anderson has integrity, he doesn't  _snitch_ ', but the night before they were like, 'an Anderson has a responsibility to the community and we are leaders and you shouldn't be afraid to step forward'.  _Pfft_." He slapped his thigh with frustration. "They're not even old money! They're what Jeff's parents called  _nouveau_   _riche_ _,_ but they were all about appearances and I just never lived up to any of it. This? This was just the icing on the cake for them."

"B..." Sam reached out a hand, wanting to comfort his friend, but Blaine was too invested in his story by this stage.

"I mean, I knew they were disappointed in me anyway--people like them don't want to admit they raised a gay kid, you know? Like I was some sort of evidence of their failure--so, when someone suggested to the Dean that I be made an example of, they agreed. They told me that I wasn't...they didn't..." He licked his lips. He was  _not_ going to get upset over them again. "They used it as an excuse to kick me out. They said I wasn't worthy of the Anderson name and that they wouldn't support me. The Dean took pity on me, especially when I filed for emancipation, and he arranged with the police to have everything wiped from my record if I left without a fuss. So..." He waved a hand dismissively around, gesturing at the apartment. "Here I am. On my own. At McKinley. Pathetic, right? And this is why Coach wouldn't go to Figgins. Because if I get in trouble--any sort of trouble--while I'm in the middle of trying to prove I can do this on my own? I'll lose my emancipation case and will be sent to a foster home."

Sam took in the self-deprecation in Blaine's voice and the defeated set of his shoulders. "B, look at me," he reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand again, squeezing reassuringly. "You're not pathetic. You're braver than any guy I know. And I'm sorry I pushed. I know you hate that. But you can't...no...you  _shouldn't_  have to deal with any of this on your own."

Blaine glanced down at where their hands were joined and felt warmth blossom in his chest. He swallowed roughly. "You're a good man, Sam Evans."

Sam flushed pink to the tips of his ears and averted his gaze, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Yeah, well..." He shrugged, then looked back up, giving Blaine a serious stare. "You're a good man, too, Blaine Anderson. I think you need to remember that more often." Then, deciding that they'd had enough serious discussion for one day, he pasted on a grin. "So, pizza and a Buffy marathon?" He asked, standing up and making his way over to where Blaine kept his DVDs. "Don't tell me you don't wanna ogle James Masters' abs and inhale empty calories after the day you've had. We can even watch  _Once_   _More_   _With_   _Feeling_ ," he added, referencing Blaine's favourite episode as a reward for the small smile playing at the dark haired boy's lips. "I'll even sing along with you."

Blaine laughed at that. "You say that like you don't already do that  _every_ time _._ "

A pillow went flying across the room at him, followed by Sam's jovial, "Just hurry up and get your ass in bed, Anderson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. No excuses...I just tend to get distracted and not do things I've promised to do until someone *cough*Loki*cough* gives me a not so subtle reminder. Oooh, I do love this chapter, too. Some of you were looking for answers after the last one...well, read on, my pretties, read on!
> 
> As per usual, Loki Firefox is the world's best co-author. I'm super happy that I found him (or, y'know, he found me...semantics...) and I'm never, ever letting him out of my clutches. I bet he regrets it all now! *maniacal laughter*


	9. Chapter 9

When Sam woke up the next day, the clear and crisp Saturday morning went unappreciated as his mind was still abuzz with thoughts of his curly-haired friend. He missed his parents' concerned looks as he quietly ate his bowl of Cap'n Crunch.

"Sam?" Dwight Evans asked his son, who continued to stare off into space. He looked over to Mary, his wife, and she pursed her lips for a minute and mouthed, 'a girl?' Dwight shook his head; while Sam was upset when Santana broke it off with him during the summer, Sam had admitted to his father that, though he was hurt, he was mostly relieved. He reached out and lightly shook Sam's shoulder.

That finally seem to snap Sam out of his trance. He was about to ask his father what was up when he flashed a guilty look at his Mom and quickly swallowed his mouthful of Crunch and then, with his mouth no longer full, asked his dad, "Yeah Dad?"

"You were a million miles away, Son, something bothering you?"

Sam sighed. "Not me personally. A friend of mine just told me that his life is pretty shi...um, I mean his life is pretty bad. I dunno, I want to help but I don't know how." He said, shrugging. "Aside from him being my friend and I want to help, one of the reasons he's having it rough was because of something I did. I meddled when I shouldn't have. He forgave me and everything but now, I mean I meddled and he got into worse trouble. Would I be helping him or not if I got into his business again?"

Mary came around the kitchen table. "This is about Blaine, isn't it?" When Sam nodded she continued, "Oh honey, is he okay? When you say his home life is pretty bad, is he, well, is he being abused?"

Sam's eyes went wide. "No!  _Jeez_ , this is what I mean about me interfering! No, Mom, it's nothing like that. Please believe me when I say that Blaine's got it all under control. Please, please,  _please_  don't do anything official or it's going to screw everything up for him and it'll be my fault all over again."

"Sam," Dwight said. "Can you tell us what's going on then? You do realize what you just said has made me, and your mother, more concerned?"

Sam blew at the bangs that rested over his face. This  _always_  happened to him! He tried to mean well but it somehow always blew up in his face. But he could always count on his parents. They'd never steered him wrong before. Besides, he'd promised Blaine that he wouldn't spread it around school, he didn't think the other boy would really mind if he told his folks.

"Blaine was kicked out of his house by his parents," Sam blurted out. He figured it was a tear-the-band-aid-off-quickly type of situation. His father's face became set and his mother gasped. He then told them everything that Blaine had told him. He knew better than to hold anything back. Despite their reduced circumstances, the Evans family were still well-thought of by the old Westerville crowd and his folks could find out the details if they wanted. "So he's just waiting for the emancipation paperwork to go through, he's on his own because he's a good kid, but if any kind of inquiry or official stuff like that pops up it will delay the paperwork."

"Oh that poor boy," Mary said with one hand around her stomach and the other at her mouth. She couldn't imagine doing that to any child, much less her own. What were the Andersons thinking?

"How is he, Sam?" Dwight asked. "Is he okay for money? Groceries and rent?"

Sam nodded. "He's fine. The other reason he can be independent is that he's got an inheritance coming in from one of his grandfathers. His lawyers gave him money in advance of it so he's doing okay. With his emancipation he'll be able to get it early instead of waiting until he's eighteen."

"Well you tell Blaine that's he's welcome here anytime, okay?" Mary said with some heat. Dwight nodded, supporting his wife. "Stevie can share your room and Blaine can have that or maybe I can put Stevie and Stacy together, they're still young enough to room--"

"Mom, Mom!" Sam interrupted with a grin. "He's fine! He really is. Yeah, he's upset that his parents kicked him out, but he's not really surprised. Plus, I think he likes living by himself."

"If you say so," Mary said clearly disbelieving him but letting it go. For now. "But I want you to invite him over. He should have dinner with family, at least once a week."

"Or you'll come and drag him here and force him to live with us?" Sam asked impudently.

"You bet," his mother answered with all seriousness. Sam's grin just got wider. He loved his parents fiercely. It was this generosity that had made them lose the business; Dwight and Mary had chosen to let the company go under during the GFC to make sure everyone got healthy severance packages. They could have walked away with a healthier bank account but it would have driven several families into homelessness. His parents hadn't even blinked, it wasn't even discussed, they just did it. Others had scoffed that it was poor business sense but Sam was proud of his parents and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I'll tell him, Mom," Sam reassured her. "He'll be ashamed and embarrassed, but I'll tell him and insist he come."

"Good," and with that Mary Evans was satisfied and left the kitchen. She kissed her husband on the cheek and lightly patted Sam on the shoulder as she searched out her two youngest. They were too quiet by half which meant they were up to something. Mary might have lacked the killer instinct to be a successful businesswoman, but her maternal instinct was flawless.

Dwight sipped his coffee as he watched his wife of twenty years walk out of the kitchen. She knew there was more to the story and she also knew that Sam would feel more comfortable talking to his dad about it so she left them to hash it out. Dwight snorted, he also knew she would get the whole story from him anyway.

Dwight looked at his oldest boy. He couldn't help but feel proud of Sam. Adults twice his age would not have handled the change in their lives with as much grace and good humor that Sam did. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he didn't handle it all too well at first either. He'd never regretted that decision but there were times when the guilt got too much. And there had been his fifteen year old son, entertaining his five and seven year-old siblings so they wouldn't be in their parents' way, all without being asked. Dwight still remembered the day that Sam had approached him shyly and thrust a wad of cash at him. He had sold his car, his Xbox, his electric guitars, his comic books, even his Star Wars collection (one that had taken him years to collect and two whole walls of his room). Dwight knew that if he could ever be proud of just one thing in his life, it would be Sam. He'd never told his son, but he took that money and put it in a term deposit account for him so that he could still go to college or take a year off and see the world, God only knew he deserved it.

And now Sam had decided to involve himself in Blaine Anderson's life. Blaine must be pretty special himself if he got Sam's attention.

"Blaine owns the Corolla?" Dwight asked, giving the conversation a little nudge.

"Yeah," Sam replied, helping himself to another glass of orange juice as he put his now rinsed bowl in the dishwasher. "He sprained his ankle so he can't drive. In exchange for driving him around, I get to hold on to it and use it however I want, as long as he doesn't need to be driven anywhere."

"Are you okay for gas money?"

"Yeah Dad, thanks," Sam said. "I make enough at the DQ to cover it. But you know this means I can pick up Stevie and Stacy after school when I don't have football, right?" he paused, "that reminds me, I have to tell Mom..."

"Sam," Dwight began, trusting that Sam would know that he was just trying to help, "why are you so worried about Blaine? I get that things like being kicked out and the betrayal of his old friends can be traumatic but is there more? And what did you mean about being responsible for some of it?"

Sam fiddled with his glass and was quiet for a while. Just as Dwight thought he wasn't going to say anything Sam spoke.

"Blaine was trying to fly under the radar at McKinley. I remembered him from Dalton and I didn't think and I outed him in front of Puck. You remember Noah Puckerman, don't you Dad?"

"Mohawked-boy," Dwight nodded. Sam had a few friends over during the summer. He didn't care for some of them, this Puckerman among them.

"You remember that Blaine was out at Dalton? Well...I didn't really stop and think that he might try to keep that quiet. Plus Puck had laid off on Kurt and Wade for being gay so I thought it was a non-issue."

"I'm guessing it wasn't?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Blaine got into the lacrosse team."

Dwight nodded again, not surprised. He'd often attended the Dalton games and was astounded at how good Blaine was then; he could only be better now.

"It wasn't appreciated. They jumped him."

"They  _what_?!"

"It's okay Dad! Beiste handled it," Sam reassured him, worried that his father would go to McKinley and raise a fuss and Blaine would get the fallout of their good intentions. "And he was awesome, Dad. I wasn't there but I heard that pretty much the whole squad tried to jump him and he knocked three of them down before they could blink and ran off before they could do anything too badly."

"No one should have to put up with that sort of thing in school!"

"It wasn't in school," Sam dismissed, but, at his Dad's expression, hurried on, "but it's been handled. They haven't laid a hand on him. They make life hard for him and Coach tries her best, but Blaine's proud. He kinda refuses to ask for help." Sam didn't realize that he'd said the last at a grumble, and Dwight couldn't help but smirk as he figured out who wanted to help but wasn't allowed to. He knew the feeling all too well.

"So now you want to help but you're afraid to do something in fear of making things worse?"

Sam nodded.

"You said he forgave you for outing him?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"And you want to help him, not because you're still feeling guilty, but because he's your friend?"

"Well mostly because he's my friend, but I still feel guilty. He still gets slushied and I know that wouldn't happen if people didn't know he was gay."

"You didn't make him gay, Son," Dwight reminded him, "nor are you putting slushies into those bullies' hands and telling them to attack Blaine." Dwight sighed. He and Mary had tried to do something with the PTA and with the administration about the iced drinks but most of the parents there didn't take it seriously. They just saw it as a harmless prank. Dwight had stopped going because he became increasingly frustrated with each passing meeting. Mary still occasionally went but, as Sam once said, she was more of a "slithering" anyway, or whatever that Harry Potter reference was about. (Ten years on and he still didn't understand it.)

"I know Dad," Sam replied but Dwight could see that the teen was still trying to wrap his head around it.

"Help him because he's your friend. Let the guilt go. As you said, he forgave you. Holding on to that guilt is not healthy. Believe me, I know. Besides, the guilt will probably make you act rashly because you'll overcompensate..." Dwight trailed off as he saw Sam blush. "Okay, what happened?"

"I fought with Puck," Sam said in a rush, "over Blaine."

At his dad's raised eyebrow and smirk, Sam rolled his eyes and threw a kitchen towel at his father. "Not like that, Dad!" Dwight chuckled.

Sam shrugged. "When I found out that Puck and his goons jumped Blaine I just couldn't let it go and when I talked to him...okay I kinda tried to threaten him to stay away from Blaine, he said things that  _really_  piss--I mean, made me angry." Sam sighed. "You're right, Dad, I was feeling guilty and when he said those things all I could think about was it was my fault Blaine got jumped and I got mad and I took it out on him, or at least I tried to," Sam finished with a grimace.

"Am I going to get a note from a teacher about this fight?"

Sam blushed again. "No Dad, it wasn't much of a fight, really. Puck really knows what he's doing."

"Are you and Puck going to go at it again?"

Sam shook his head to Dwight's relief. "I don't think so. I think he only started to listen to what I had to say after we fought. Almost like if I didn't, it wasn't that important."

"Well, I hope you learned something from this then?"

"Don't wallow in guilty feelings?"

"Yes," Dwight agreed, "and don't start fights unless you know how to end them in your favor. I think maybe we should talk to Benson at the gym and give you some boxing lessons. Not," Dwight raised his hand stopping Sam as he was about to speak, "that I expect you to get into more fights, but if you're anything like me, and I suspect you are, you're going to be championing the underdog and they are usually outnumbered."

Sam let out a breath. "Thanks Dad." Then he smirked. "You know, Blaine boxes."

"Well, then I should tell Benson that you'll have a sparring partner."

Sam's grin never failed to make Dwight's heart light. He then looked at the clock.

"Don't you have the morning shift today?"

"Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed looking at the clock, then grimaced at his father, "Sorry Dad. I've got to go. I still have to pick up Blaine and drive him to work. I hope he didn't walk down the stairs without me!"

Dwight watched as his son run out of the kitchen, yet still took time to pause and drop a quarter in the Swear Jar. He heard him yell his goodbyes to Mary and the kids. Refilling his mug with more coffee from the pot, Dwight wondered if his life as a teen was as complicated to his parents as Sam's seemed to be to him.

"Hell yeah," he said to himself and smirked as he recalled the stuff that he used to do. He put a quarter into the Swear Jar as he walked out of the kitchen to join his wife and youngest kids.

-?-

Blaine did wait for him before going down the stairs by himself but it was a near thing. Sam apologized profusely but Blaine just laughed it off. After dropping Blaine off at the music store, Sam was deep in thought as he drove to work.

This was the Blaine he remembered in Dalton: gracious and quick to laugh. Blaine didn't think twice about letting Sam use his car for Sam's own use when he wasn't driving Blaine around. When Sam tried to object, Blaine just waved it off. He said that Sam was doing him a favor and that, since he couldn't use it anyway, it would otherwise just sit idle on the curb. It also made more sense to have the car where Sam was instead of picking it up and dropping it off at Blaine's place all the time. When Sam said that he'd pay for the gas, Blaine thanked him but he could already tell that Blaine was going to try and refill the gas when he was around to pay for it.

It was kinda scary how quickly he'd picked up on Blaine's expressions. Sam figured after watching Blaine so intently the first weeks of school and wondering why he was so different probably gave him an edge. But still, it took him months before he got to this level of understanding with Mike.

As Sam parked the car, his thoughts drifted back to how easy Blaine was to be with when he dropped his guard. As he walked up to the mall, he realized that the Blaine in Dalton was not a front; it's who he really was. The blond frowned, considering how difficult it was to get Blaine to act that way again. He had put on such a mask, and what he hid behind it... Sam honestly couldn't believe how much Blaine had been through--how much he was still going through--and how easily he'd managed to conceal all the drama and pain from everyone.

Sam had meant what he'd said the previous night: nobody deserved to be all alone like that. The fact that the Dalton boys--boys who attended a school where respect for one another was drilled into them the second they donned those blazers--had treated Blaine so poorly, throwing him in front of the firing line to save their own asses, made Sam feel sick to his stomach. Blaine was a genuinely nice guy and a loyal friend, and those private school douche bags had used that against him.

The next time he saw any of them, Sam vowed, he'd be taking advantage of the rough and tough lessons he'd learned at McKinley. Former peers or not, they would rue the day they'd hurt Blaine.

As the morning crawled by, Sam busied himself serving customers and cleaning tables. He forced himself to be pleasant--company policy--when Kitty and her posse of mini-Santanas and mini-Tinas came by and flirted with him. She couldn't take a hint. He'd had enough of that with Quinn, Mercedes and Santana to last him a lifetime. At least he was able to salvage a friendship with Mercedes when they broke up but, in the end, he was relieved when it was over.

He never quite understood it; he was a simple guy. Everyone knew this. Yet he ended up with three of the most high maintenance girlfriends in the history of teen romance. Sam wondered how that had even happened. His idea of a good date would be dinner out, maybe a walk in the park, and some cuddle time somewhere.

But his exes had different expectations. Quinn wanted every date to be "special" and he'd really had to dig deep to make it so, going so far as to borrow Kurt's collection of romantic comedies for ideas. Mercedes had texted him constantly. He'd never had a moment alone. And, he didn't like to think badly of her because they were still friends, but everything was  _always_  about her. It was kinda tiring. And finally there was Santana. Being with the feisty Latina was like dating Quinn and Mercedes combined. She chose him to be her boyfriend that year and that was that. Sam begrudgingly admitted that at first he was flattered, and Santana was crazy hot, but he'd never felt more superfluous in his life. She could disappear for a weekend and he was "clingy" if he asked her where she was, but if he even so much as spoke to another girl he would get grilled like there was no tomorrow. She'd ended it as abruptly as she'd started it, and while it surprised him that it had hurt, like with Mercedes and Quinn, he was relieved to have seen the end of the relationship.

And now Kitty wanted in. And she wasn't the only one. He'd seen the way the girls in school looked at him. Part of the reason he liked being in New Directions was that the girls there--Rachel, Sugar, Marley, even Quinn and Tina--didn't look at him like he was a piece of meat. And it wasn't just the girls in school. He had to put up with a lot of flirting from customers. While he enjoyed flirting, he thought this situation was unfair because he had no choice but to be pleasant thanks to that pesky company policy. Even his coworker Gloria, who went to Lima Community College, flirted with Sam all the time. Luckily he only had to put up with her every other weekend as their shifts weren't compatible, but it happened often enough that he was thinking about talking to Rey, their manager, about it.

Sam sighed as he saw another giggling pack of girls he recognized from school approach the counter. They didn't line up right away, still seemingly trying to decide what they wanted. But Sam knew what they were up to and he was ready for it. As he passed the Blizzard to his customer and his counter freed up, he turned and told his coworker Jack that he was off to the stockroom. He barely acknowledged Jack's wave and tried not to hear the girls' whispered murmurings of disappointment.

He'd once complained to Mike about it and the bastard had just grinned at him--he'd actually shown teeth!--and told him it was because he had "Doormat" tattooed on his forehead. He'd wanted to argue with Mike but knew his friend was right. When he'd wondered why he was getting these predatory looks, he'd made the mistake of asking Kurt and Unique and they had pointed it out to him in excruciating detail.

"Oh Sam," Kurt had said, "it's your own fault you know."

"Mm-mmm," Unique had added with a head bob. "You went out with three divas and treated them like queens."

"So they expect that if you are their boyfriend, you'll treat them the same."

"But--"

"And let's face it, handsome, you're hot but sweet...and a little bit dumb."

"Hey!"

"Which to them means that they can be the ones in control."

"Right you are Kurt, very perspicacious of you."

"Why thank you, Unique, you're pretty insightful yourself."

"Well, I try--"

"Guys," Sam had interrupted, regretting starting the conversation to begin with (he wasn't dumb, damn it!) "What has this got to do with--"

"Samuel, sweetie, you are what we call a  _catch_."

"Sing it, sister."

"Um--"

"Aside from your stellar qualities--"

"Like being dumb," Sam had groused but Kurt just continued speaking like he hadn't said anything.

"--you're the star quarterback, but not afraid to sing and dance with New Directions."

"Athletic but artistic." Unique had explained.

"You hang out with Puck and, despite your falling out, with Quinn and that whole group yet make time for Artie and Joe."

"Popular but not arrogant."

"And the fact that you're friends with Unique and I, well..."

The darker skinned of the pair had offered him a tender smile. "You don't judge, honey. That means you're an all around nice guy."

Sam had blushed, suddenly not as offended as he'd been a few seconds earlier. But Kurt still wasn't finished, and he'd gone on to further assuage the blond.

"We know you aren't dumb, Samuel," Kurt had offered softly. "Most people here mistake compassion and graciousness for being stupid and, instead of cherishing it, they take advantage of it."

"Sam," Unique, no Wade, then told him without any of his usual flair. "Be careful. A lot of people here would take advantage of you. Please, please take care of yourself, okay? You got lucky when Santana let you go, you know that, right?"

Sam had nodded, understanding completely. He counted himself lucky for having friends like these boys. "Thanks guys."

Ever since then, he saw what Kurt and Unique, and even Mike, had shown him. The girls didn't want him, Sam Evans, they wanted the status he could bring them. He normally didn't think in that way, but even he could see that with Puck and Finn graduating this year, he was seen as filling their shoes and most of the girls were already jockeying into position. They were risking Santana's ire--because no one messed with Santana's exes which was why Puck was still single--because she was graduating this year, too.

He really just wanted a year without drama. When he first came to McKinley he wanted to be popular. He didn't want to be the odd man out; frankly, he had wanted to be Blaine but, y'know, like Blaine with a  _girl_ friend. He couldn't believe his luck when he and Quinn started to date. That had come out of nowhere and he suddenly became one of the most popular guys in school. Yeah, okay, Quinn had ended up cheating on him, but by that time he had made his mark, making starting quarterback and became firmly entrenched as one of the "cool kids".

He wasn't single for very long. He hooked up with Mercedes and when she left him for Shane it wasn't long before Santana claimed him. Now he wondered if he should have done what Blaine had wanted to do and flown under the radar. He now understood the saying, "be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it."

Mike had managed to get all that he wanted without having to put up with all the crap Sam had to put up with. With that thought in mind, he told himself that he had to talk to Mike again. Seek his guidance. Though, he mused, he could also ask Blaine for his advice, too.

Blaine had been popular at Dalton but he'd never had to deal with any of this. Granted, there weren't any girls at Dalton, but Sam was pretty sure Blaine wasn't the only gay guy there. There was, what was his name? He was an upperclassman... Smythe. Sebastian Smythe. He was gay. And that there was that one guy in the Warblers--Trent?--who was definitely crushing on Blaine. But, as Sam thought about it, he realized that Blaine didn't have a boyfriend. Not that he was obsessing over Blaine, but frankly the Warblers were like rock stars and he wasn't the only one who had a man-crush on the curly-haired soloist. And while Sam had never joined in the gossip, he'd listened well enough and, though there was a lot of speculation, no one at the time could say that Blaine had had a boyfriend.

But, Sam mused, after what had happened to Blaine, maybe that was a good thing. Imagine how much worse the betrayal would have been if one of those guys involved was his boyfriend! Sam scowled at just the prospect. Or maybe Blaine would have had more support if he  _had_ had a boyfriend there to stand by him? That one event had changed Blaine so much.

It was obvious that it had taken a lot out of Blaine to open up and tell him what had happened, and it was also obvious that he still expected Sam to turn around and abandon him like the Dalton guys had done. And that hurt, Sam realised. It hurt that Blaine didn't trust him. And it hurt that Blaine felt so shut off from the world that he just expected to have to go it alone.

Sam wondered how long it would take to convince Blaine that he was wrong.

-?-

Sunday was fun. Well it was fun after he got off work. Jack called in sick and Rey had Gloria fill in. He really had to talk to Rey about the girl; she had taken to squeezing his biceps and grabbing his ass. It was making him uncomfortable. In a way it was funny; a year ago he would have been thrilled if someone like Gloria gave him the time of day, now he was just getting creeped out.

When Sam arrived at the music store, he heard the piano playing. The melody was sweet and he definitely recognized that voice. Sam thought it was a crime that Blaine didn't sing more often. He didn't recognize the song, though, but it was pretty. He looked around and saw that the place was full but everyone was quiet and watching Blaine perform.

" _How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies_ _._ _Perhaps we don't fulfill each other's fantasies,_ "Blaine was crooning, his eyes closed as he sang, completely lost in the music, " _And as we stand upon the ledges of our lives_ _,_ _with_ _our respective similarities_ _, i_ _t's either sadness or euphoria_..."

As he sang the last note and played the last chord, there was silence before the whole store burst into applause. Blaine smiled and got up. He handed the sheet music to a young man that Sam suddenly noticed was standing next to the piano. They started to discuss something as the noise level of the store resumed, the crowd dispersing and going about their business.

"Best investment I made," Sam started as he heard the familiar voice speak by his ear. He turned to see Alexei standing next to him with a proud expression on his face.

"Blaine?" Sam asked.

"Of course!" Alexei exclaimed. "He knows much music. Can argue with university students on fine points of composition and knows plenty of singers, bands and composers, even music producers. Very smart boy."

Sam turned to look back at Blaine and saw him with a different customer now and seemed to be discussing two different guitars.

"Yesterday he played Paganini on violin to prove point. Did you know he played violin?" Alexei asked a stunned Sam who could only shake his head. Alexei let out a grunt. "I feel I must give him raise now."

Alexei left him to attend a customer and Sam spent the next couple of minutes just watching Blaine. He saw him not just interact with the customers but actually engage them. This was Blaine at his most unguarded. He could see the delight in his face, or how wild his arms would gesticulate as he tried to make his point. Sam smiled when Blaine, with the most serious expression on his face, helped a little girl choose a violin while her smiling parents looked on.

When the little girl was clutching her prize and Blaine directed them to the counter, he saw Sam. His smile lit up the place and Sam felt good about that. Sam walked over to him.

"Hey there, did you leave work early?"

"Nope, I actually had to stay longer. Rey hired a new guy and I had to walk him through," Sam laughed at Blaine's expression. "Blaine, it's nearly seven."

Blaine blinked and the easy smile returned. "Well, time flies and all that." He started to stretch and something caught Sam's eye and, without thinking, he grabbed one of Blaine's hands. He could see that the knuckles were still bruised from his fight with Lipoff the other day. It wasn't swelling but he'd be surprised if it wasn't at least sore.

"Doesn't the pain bother you?" Sam asked softly. He was holding on to Blaine's hand with one hand and let his other hand gently caress the bruised knuckles. He remembered Alexei telling him that Blaine played the violin yesterday and probably other instruments since then.

"Well it does now that you've mentioned it," Blaine said with an odd lilt to his voice, the tone one that Sam just couldn't place. He carefully let Blaine's hand go and dug into his gym bag, pulling out some liniment and holding it up to Blaine.

"Do you mind?" He asked. Blaine just shook his head. Gently and with much care, Sam applied the liniment to Blaine's hand. He didn't notice it but the tip of his tongue came out as he tried to work the liniment into Blaine's hands without hurting him.

Blaine felt his heart rate increase exponentially as Sam massaged his bruised hands. Despite himself, he couldn't help but enjoy the soft but sure way Sam touched him, or admire the way Sam's large, strong hands almost engulfed his own. Then there was the intense look of concentration on his face, his expressive green eyes narrowed slightly as they inspected their handiwork.

The liniment scent tickled at his sinuses, but he didn't care, just as long as Sam kept up the contact for a little longer. And, okay, he knew that was probably wrong to think, given that Sam was straight and was just being a good friend, but Blaine couldn't help melting just a little at the guy's actions. It had been so long since anyone had demonstrated such care towards him--even his parents had been cold and distant during his youth--that the warm, supple feel of Sam's hand on his did funny things to his insides.

When Sam was done he looked up and saw that Blaine had a smile on his face. "What?"

Blaine shook his head. "It's nothing." But the smile never left.

Sam could see that standing was causing Blaine some trouble but knew better than to mention it. He started to help out instead, trying to keep Blaine off his feet. When the store finally closed up, he was surprised when Alexei gave him some bills.

"Consider it incentive," he said. "Blaine knows more music than you but I'm thinking that he knows more music than anyone. But you are nice boy. You help me out so I help you out. It is good business, yes?"

Not knowing what else to say, Sam thanked Alexei and he soon took Blaine home. At Blaine's insistence he joined him for dinner which reminded him to extend his mother's invitation.

"Uh, Sam..."

"You might as well just agree, Blaine," Sam said, "I'm telling you she's worse than Molly Weasley. If you don't come over, she'll probably bring dinner over here and drag the rest of us with her. Don't do it for yourself, do it for me?"

Blaine laughed at that. "Fine, fine; I'll go."

When Sam brought up that he had told his parents what had happened to Blaine, he was expecting Blaine to blow up. He was surprised when Blaine just shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought you might after I told you. I guess if it's just them it's okay."

"Thanks, Blaine," Sam said with obvious relief.

Blaine looked taken aback and then his eyes softened.

"I'm so sorry Sam," he said softly. "I never...I," Blaine floundered for a bit, took a deep breath and started again. "I was so busy protecting myself I didn't realize I was hurting people around me. I don't want you to be afraid of me, Sam and I'm sorry for making you feel that way."

"It's okay, really," Sam was quick to reassure him. "After hearing what you went through and what I did, I don't really blame you."

Blaine was about to say something then stopped. He smiled again and said, "If I don't nip this in the bud we'll spend the whole evening apologizing to each other. We're both sorry, okay? We'll let the past be the past and just be Sam and Blaine, okay?"

Sam grinned and said, "Okay." And that guilty feeling finally left for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone for the amazing feedback. Glad you're still loving it as much as we are. Writing is a blast, especially for me, when other people read and share their responses.
> 
> I don't normally do shout outs, but AltsGlee, I wish I could reply to your reviews! Thank you for all the compliments. Same goes to everyone else who reviewed, whether I have had a chance to reply to you yet or not, know that I appreciate every comment, whether it's one sentence or a thousand words. When it all boils down to it, you're the reason I continue to write fanfiction.
> 
> So...This chapter is a little different to the others. You'll see why. :) Also, I wrote very, very little of it. This chapter is 98% Loki Firefox, whose work I utterly adore, so please leave a review at the end, because without him this story wouldn't exist.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> \---
> 
> Song was 'Summer, Highland Falls' by Billy Joel.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder that this is AU so the characters are a bit OOC, if you haven't noticed it before, you're going to start noticing it now.
> 
> We're not out to bash anyone but we did need antagonists. Plus, we think that this is how these characters would have developed if certain things happened differently or they made slightly different choices.

Despite his injury, and Sam's insistence that he not go to practice this week, Blaine found himself in high spirits as he stood in front of the postings for the cast of West Side Story. As Sam had predicted, he'd been balloted as Tony, the blond himself cast as Bernardo. Mike was Riff, Kurt snagged Baby John, Unique landed Rosalia with Santana Lopez earning and deserving the role of Anita. He frowned when he saw that Maria had been double cast. Rachel's audition had  _owned_  that role! Mercedes Jones, while a fine singer, just wasn't right for the part. Somehow he knew that was a drama that would end in tears.

Pulling out his phone, he stepped aside and sent Sam a text, asking if he'd seen the bulletin yet, before a loud voice caught his attention.

"What the hell?" The tall boy--Finn Hudson, Blaine recalled from their one meeting the day he'd been slushied--was scowling as he read the list of names, directing his complaint to the dark skinned girl at his side. "Krupke? Freaking  _Krupke_? I'm the lead male soloist for New Directions! They've gotta be wrong. Who got Tony?" He scanned the list again, not realising that his competition was the boy standing a few away. "Anderson?" He asked, incredulous. " _What_? He's not even  _in_  glee!"

Mercedes wasn't paying attention, too focused on her own name being placed beside a pint sized diva's. She looked apoplectic. "Forget  _your_  whining, white boy. Look at what they've done to  _me._ " She gestured wildly, slapping the offending piece of paper. "I ain't second to no one! I'm no understudy, and I'm  _not_ sharing a role with that...that..." She struggled for a creative insult. "Hobbit!" Reaching out, she tore the sheet from the wall and stormed towards Ms Pillsbury's office. "They're gonna fix this mess!" She announced, before turning back to glare at Finn. "You comin' or what?"

The tall jock, thankfully only on the football team (because he apparently had very little in the way of coordination), ambled after the girl, still muttering to himself about the unfairness of it all.

Blaine watched them leave with a frown. This was not going to end well, he just knew it.

"Hey! Don't make that face! You'll give yourself wrinkles. You're far too pretty for wrinkles," Kurt told him, snapping his finger's in Blaine's face when he failed to get a reaction. "Uh,  _hello_! Earth to Handsome!"

Blaine blinked, then blushed, embarrassed more by being caught up in his thoughts than by the nicknames. "Sorry, Kurt." He brightened. "Hey! Congrats on Baby John! You'll be awesome!"

"I got Baby John?" Kurt considered this for a moment and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I can work with that." He furrowed his brow and looked over towards the empty bulletin board. "How'd you know that?"

"Oh. Uh, there was a list. But, um, someone took it away." Blaine fidgeted and averted his gaze. He knew Kurt was bound to ask who and he really didn't want to start trouble, especially not between the glee kids. He'd only just managed to convince Rachel that he wasn't a spy.

"Someone, huh? Oh, sweetie, I'm not going to let this rest now." He reached out and patted Blaine's back condescendingly. "Tell your friend Kurt what happened."

Blaine sighed. "I'd really rather--"

"Blaine. I have a nose for a scandal. And underneath that divine aftershave of yours...no, seriously, is it Paco Rabanne?" Blaine nodded. "Right, well, under that I smell drama. Now spill!"

"Rachel and Mercedes were double cast for Maria. I don't know how Rachel's taking it, but Mercedes...well, she wasn't happy. So she, uh, she grabbed the cast list and said she was going to go talk to Ms P." He didn't feel the need to mention Finn at this point, seeing as the guy hadn't really done anything other than be vocal about his disappointment.

Kurt rolled his eyes and looped his arm in Blaine's, leading him down the hall, keeping an eye out for Rachel in particular. "Seriously? You know, 'Cedes and I used to be friends. She had this really cute crush on me--" Blaine looked at him incredulously and he snorted, "I know, right? So, we were like besties for most of last year."

"What happened?"

Kurt shrugged. "We both joined the Cheerios. And, no," he smirked slyly, "I don't have the uniform anymore." Blaine snorted and the taller boy smiled. "She and Santana hit it off and then...well, she changed."

Blaine noticed the droop in Kurt's tone and nudged him with his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

The countertenor smiled. "Don't be. It's high school B, and I'm too fabulous to let another diva bring me down. Besides," he squeezed Blaine's forearm, "I've got better arm candy now."

" _Still_  not gonna happen, Kurt."

With a dramatic sigh, Kurt replied, "You can't blame a guy for trying."

"Trying what?" Rachel asked, sidling up to Blaine's other side as she joined the conversation.

"Shamelessly hitting on me."

" _Kurt_!"

"What?" Kurt asked, completely unabashedly. "It would all be so much easier if he'd just give in to my charms already." He winked at Blaine and they waited for the inevitable tirade to begin.

Rachel didn't disappoint.

"Kurt Hummel, I am so disappointed in you. I'd have thought after what happened last year you would be the last person to harass--"

"Whoa, whoa,  _whoa_!" Blaine pulled up short, suddenly serious. "What happened last year?"

"Nothing," Kurt shot an exasperated glare across at Rachel.

The former Warbler arched an eyebrow. "Kurt."

"Ugh. Rachel, do you see what you've done?" Kurt shook his head. "Last year there was this jock. Dave. He gave me a bit of a hard time. And then I found out it was because he was gay. And kind of obsessed. With me. It, uh, it didn't end well for him. He changed schools." Kurt shrugged. "We email from time to time, he's doing pretty well now."

"You email your former bully?" Blaine blinked. "That's...unexpected."

Kurt's grin turned coy again. "There's a lot about me that's unexpected."

Rachel's eyes widened. " _Kurt_!"

"Oh, fine. Spoil my fun," the coy grin morphed into a knowing smirk, "or is this just a Rachel Berry-ploy to have me back off only for you to sink your claws into your Tony here?"

"I do not have claws, Kurt and...wait. My Tony?  _Mine_?" Rachel's smile could light up the Eastern seaboard.

Blaine groaned. "Nice one, Kurt." He turned to Rachel. "Not yours exactly..."

Her face fell. "I don't understand."

"Rach, Maria was double cast."

The look she gave them was akin to the one she might have worn if someone told her Streisand had died. " _What_?"

Kurt moved to her side, giving her a consoling hug. "Breathe, Rachel."

"Who?" She demanded. "Who am I sharing  _my_  role with?"

"Does it matter?" Blaine asked, only to be glared at by both of his friends. He held up his hands in surrender. "Shutting up now."

"Mercedes," Kurt supplied, ignoring Blaine's commentary in favour of making sure Rachel was completely up to speed. "And, from what I hear, her reaction was worse than yours."

"I don't want to share Maria, Kurt," she stated petulantly. "I was  _born_  to play Maria. I'm  _perfect_  for Maria. Just like Blaine is perfect for Tony."

"I know, Rach," Kurt sighed, "but this happens sometimes, even in the real world. Especially in the real world. Actresses sometimes have to share stage roles. And you're a professional, right?" He smiled encouragingly as she nodded (albeit reluctantly). "So you're going to accept their decision and be the bigger person. And you're gonna rehearse and show everyone that you were the right choice all along."

"Right choice?" Another familiar voice joined the conversation. "Sounds like you can only be talking about me." Blaine rolled his eyes but grinned at Sam as he meandered over, slinging his arm across Blaine's shoulders. "What's happening people? Give me the four-one-one."

"Miss P posted the cast list for the musical," Blaine supplied. "You're Bernardo--"

"Really? Sweet!"

"Kurt's Baby John--"

"Aww, dude, awesome!"

"I'm Tony--"

"Totally told you so!"

"And Rachel--"

"Wait! Don't tell me!" Sam closed his eyes and held his fingers to his temples. "Maria!"

Rachel's lower lip quivered and Blaine sighed. "Not quite. They double cast her alongside Mercedes."

Sam frowned, despite the fact that Mercedes was his ex and he respected her talent, he knew that Rachel had  _killed_  her audition. "That sucks!" He stepped away from Blaine and toward Rachel, arms extended for a hug. "C'mere. Let Sam make it all better."

Kurt pouted at him as Rachel giggled into his embrace. "Do I get a hug, Samuel?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You don't need one, Kurt. You're just trying to feel up my abs again."

Kurt's pout became more pronounced. "But--"

"Wait," Blaine interrupted. "Again?" He felt a momentary pang of what he'd probably call jealousy if he were going to acknowledge it at all.

Sam just laughed. "You've gotta watch yourself around Hummel, man. He seems all polite and sweet, but he's pretty handsy..."

Blaine reminded himself that he liked Kurt. That Kurt was a friend. That ripping his arms from his sockets was probably an overreaction. Especially when he had no reason to feel the need to do so. Like, at all. Nope.

"So, yeah, Mercedes," he said, clearing his throat. "Not who I was expecting to see cast as Maria."

Finn emerged from his and Mercedes' impromptu visit to Ms P's office, feeling as though he hadn't accomplished anything. In fact, he just felt more frustrated. Ms P had told him that she thought Krupke was a great part for him, and then had turned to Mercedes and told her in no uncertain terms that she and Rachel would share the role like mature adults.

Mercedes had thrown an epic bitch fit, stamping her feet and proclaiming that she was a star-- _the_  star--and that she'd rather have no part at all than have to share the spotlight with Rachel-freaking-Berry of all people. Miss P had watched her calmly, waiting until the tirade was over, her hands neatly folded atop her desk.

Once Mercedes was silent, a smug smile ghosting across her lips, Emma had leaned forward and said, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mercedes, but it would be unfair to take the chance away from Rachel just because you tried to blackmail me into it." She waved her hand across the room. "You don't see her telling me to get rid of you, do you? And even if she did, I would tell her the exact same thing."

Finn had watched with wide eyes as Mercedes stood and scowled at the Guidance Counsellor, informing her that she was standing by her threat. "It's either her or me, Ms P. Mercedes Jones doesn't share her part with anybody."

Ms P had nodded. "I understand, Mercedes. We'll be sorry to lose you from our cast." She'd then turned her bambi-eyes on Finn, effectively dismissing the loud diva. "I hope you don't feel the same way about your role, Finn. Officer Krupke is a very good part. And there's not as much dancing..."

He'd shaken his head and found himself ushered out into the hall, which was where he now found himself, staring down the hall at the others, his frustration mounting ever higher. Rachel was laughing, her back against Sam's torso, his arms draped over her shoulders. To her left stood Blaine Anderson, looking all proud of himself, and to her right... _Kurt_?

Finn felt betrayed. Kurt was his brother. He should be supporting Finn, not the competition! And why was Sam all over Rachel? She was supposed to be mooning all over him, not the blond. Sam didn't even get solos in glee!

And he didn't even want to get started on Anderson.

Finn frowned at the group as they horsed around. It wasn't fair! Why did all the other guys get everything he wanted? Sam had come in last year and  _stolen_ the quarterback position out from under him, now Blaine was doing the same with the musical, and Sam was all over Rachel. Not that Rachel was Finn's.

No, he was with Quinn. She'd started dating Sam last year and Finn had realised that he'd made a mistake by staying angry with her over baby-gate. People made mistakes, right? And she'd given the baby away, so there wouldn't be any reminder of her infidelity. So he'd pursued her, seducing her away from Sam in the same fashion that he'd taken quarterback. And it had felt good. Great even. She was the Captain of the Cheerios again, and he was proud to have her on his arm. And, despite the fact that she was back in the Celibacy Club, she'd let him round third base when they were making out in the back of her car on date nights, which he found super awesome.

And then Rachel had started crushing on him, singing him songs and throwing herself at him, and things had been perfect.

But now they were all falling apart. Quinn didn't want to mess around as often, Blaine had gotten the lead in the musical, and Rachel--dependable, loyal,  _crazy_  Rachel--had lost interest and moved on to Sam.

Little did Finn know, as he huffed and walked in the opposite direction, that his day was going to get worse.

"So, Samuel," Rachel beamed up at the blond, her perfectly manicured little hands clinging to his bicep, "Will you celebrate our casting with me in true showman style? I'd ask my Tony," she cast a pointed look at Blaine, which he deliberately ignored, "but  _someone_ refuses to join glee..."

Sam pretended to be affronted. "I dunno, Rach. Are you saying I'm your second choice?"

"I think that's exactly what Miss Berry is saying," Kurt supplied with a satisfied smirk. "Why, a fine specimen like you shouldn't settle for runner up, Sam."

Rachel's eyes were wide and she hurried to apologise for the unintentional insult, only to realise that the boys were stirring her. She huffed and folded her arms. "Never mind," she told them haughtily, "I'll just perform a solo with my usual award-worthy flair."

"Awww, c'mon, Rach, don't be like that. I'd love to sing with you."

Kurt face-palmed at Sam's gullible nature while Rachel's eyes lit up, the latter already rabbiting on about song choices and possible costumes, despite the fact that glee was that very afternoon.

-?-

"Hey Blaine," Will said as he came upon the former Dalton student during a free period, "Em... _Ms_   _Pillsbury_  told me that you got Tony in West Side Story. Congratulations."

Blaine smiled, making a concerted effort to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. Sam really enjoyed being on the New Directions, so the man had to be doing something right. "Thank you Mr Schuester," he replied, "I'm looking forward to rehearsals."

The teacher fell into step beside him. "I bet you miss performing, right? I overheard Sam telling Mike about your job..."

"Well, yeah...I guess."

Blaine refrained from flinching as Schuester placed his hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "I think you'll be a good fit in New Directions, Blaine. I'm sure you'll make lots of new,  _special_  friends."

Blaine sighed and subtly removed himself from the man's grasp. "Well, my schedule is still pretty full...and with the musical it'll be even crazier."

"Blaine, half the cast are in New Directions. It would help you get  _closer_  with everyone, I'm sure."

"But-"

"You'll see, Blaine," Will said, cutting him off, starting to walk away with a smile on his face. He threw a wink back over his shoulder at the bemused teen. "We'll get you in the end!"

-?-

Sam spun Rachel around the front of the choir room as they sang, genuine smiles on their faces. He dipped her in an impromptu flourish to their simple choreography during a break in the lyrics, and she clutched at his arms, giggling.

Mr Schue watched with contemplation: pairing Rachel with Sam as the lead hadn't ever occurred to him until now. But they were  _good,_ they had chemistry, and they seemed to enjoy performing together.

Kurt and Unique were the first to applaud when the song came to a close, both wolf-whistling and causing a fuss. Mike applauded with the same sort of grace with which he did everything, and a few of the others clapped halfheartedly, used to Rachel's behaviour but surprised by the inclusion of Sam.

Mercedes and Finn sat in the back row of the risers, their arms folded stiffly across their chests, scowls on their faces. On Finn's other side, Quinn just looked perplexed. She was glad that Rachel seemed to have backed-off chasing her boyfriend, but wasn't pleased that the tiny brunette had apparently moved on to the blond object of Quinn's affections. Still, she had no claim over him, she'd chosen Finn, and it was probably better this way.

"...was great, guys." Mr Schue was saying as he stood up to take control of the class again.

"Thank you," Rachel curtsied-- _actually_  curtsied--and beamed at the group. "Sam and I just wanted to celebrate the casting of the musical. Not only for our own parts, but everyone in this room who worked hard and received a role."

Mercedes scoffed but it went largely unnoticed.

Will clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Well it was excellent and we all appreciated it," he said, "in fact, seeing you guys sing together was really inspiring. You've given me a lot to think about for Regionals..."

Finn sat up straighter at that, tensing. He'd hated watching Rachel moon over Sam earlier, then watching her do her crazy-eyes at him in song had been torturous...but Mr Schue had just suggested that he was thinking about making Sam lead for Regionals and  _that_ was the last straw! "Uh, Mr Schue," he said, intent on reminding the man that  _he_ was Rachel's lead. He was the  _only_ male lead of New Directions. "What about that ballad you had Rachel and I working on?"

He sent Sam a smug grin when Mr Schue agreed that they should go back to working on that.

-?-

"Uh, Sam?" Blaine asked as they drove home that evening. "Where are we going?" They'd left school as Blaine normally would, but Sam took a right where he should have gone straight. "You picked me up just fine this morning, which makes me think that you're going the wrong way deliberately."

The blond kept his eyes glued to the road and debated on playing dumb, but knew that Blaine was on to him. "Umm...home?" He still offered weakly. He could feel the glare being leveled at him from the passenger seat.

"Sam," the curly haired boy said in warning, arms now folded across his chest.  _"Whose_  home?"

Sam sighed and looked at his friend apologetically. "Mine. Mom's making me bring you home for dinner."

Blaine's eyes widened. "What? Sam! Some warning would have been nice! I can't come over for dinner empty-handed!" He showed his frustration when he blew a stray curl that escaped his otherwise slicked-back hair. Sam could see something else was bothering Blaine, though.

"It's not coming empty-handed, is it?" Sam asked gently.

Blaine let out a breath. Sam stole a look and he saw Blaine was looking out the window. While waiting for his answer, Sam could see his reflection and idly thought that with the one spit curl dangling from his gelled hair, he kinda looked like Superman. Sam was startled from his thoughts when Blaine finally answered.

"I know I said it was okay for you to tell them," Blaine said. "But I still sort of wish that you didn't."

Sam had the grace to look even more apologetic. "Well, I came home with a car, B, which I haven't given back and it's been a while. They were kinda curious."

Blaine nodded.  _Yeah_ , he realised, there was that, too. "It's fine, Sam," he eventually replied, watching trees and picket fences blur by. "I just...knowing they know is one thing. Knowing they know and then having to face them is another. Just, a little warning would be better next time, okay?"

"But it's not as successful a kidnapping if you give your target advanced warning," Sam told him matter-of-factly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Spy School 101."

Blaine found himself snorting at that. Sam was such a strange mix of jock and nerd...it was endearing. "Right. So, I've been kidnapped, then. Do you make it a habit to leave your kidnappees free to do whatever the want in the passenger seat? My hands aren't even tied! And there's no blindfold."

Sam's attention was still on the road, but it was obvious that he was delighted that Blaine was playing along. His eyes lit up and his smile stretched across his face before he schooled himself back into character, adding his Sean Connery accent for emphasis. "Well, I determined that you weren't a threat, Mr Anderson. You've been incapacitated and are unlikely to make a successful escape."

"I see." Blaine sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid you've got me there. But I think you're underestimating my intelligence, ingenuity, ability to improvise and..." he lowered his voice, " _other_ talents."

Sam laughed, and Blaine pouted. He'd thought his seductive voice was very convincing. Obviously Agent Samuel Evans was a tougher nut to crack.

And, no, he wasn't going to delve into the inadvertent sexual innuendo or puns he could make with that last thought.

Sam, meanwhile, looked thoroughly amused. "You're not exactly MacGyver, Blainers." He shook his head. "You'll just have to deal with your fate: dinner with my family."

They pulled in to a driveway of a small but inviting brick home a few minutes later and Blaine steeled himself for the inevitable interrogation. He pasted on his most charming smile and smoothed down his hair. Sam was laughing at him--although he was disappointed that the spit curl was now slicked-back--as he opened the passenger side door and helped him to his feet. He'd noticed that Blaine had been trying to walk as he normally would all day, and that, as the day wore on, his limp had become more pronounced. Without allowing Blaine a second to walk towards the door, Sam wrapped his arm around the shorter boy and tried to shoulder some of his weight.

Blaine struggled against him. "Sam, I'm fine. I can walk the ten feet to the door."

"I know you  _can,_ B. But the easier you take it now, the less pain you'll be in tomorrow when you try to act like there's nothing wrong again," Sam's tone spoke volumes about how he felt about that.

The shorter boy frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but they were already at the front door and it swung open to reveal a miniature version of Sam. "Hi!" the little doppelgänger chirped, grinning and putting his gap teeth on display, "I'm Stevie! You're Blaine, right? Mom said you were coming to dinner. Wanna come play Pokemon?"

Blaine blinked at the rapid fire way the boy spoke, feeling a little overwhelmed. "Um, yeah, I'm Blaine," he nodded. "It's nice to meet you Stevie." The little boy beamed at him. "But I might take a raincheck on the Pokemon for now."

"Oh," Stevie looked crestfallen and it made Blaine feel instantly guilty. He couldn't help but think that the miniature version of his friend had the unfortunate advantage of being able to wield the same expressions as Sam.

Blaine sighed. "Maybe after dinner, okay?"

The little boy brightened immediately and Blaine had the feeling that he'd just been played by an eight year-old. Sam chuckled at his expression before gently nudging his kid brother out of the way. "C'mon, Stevie, let us in already."

"Sorry Sammy," the smaller Evans boy stepped aside and Sam helped Blaine into the foyer.

Blaine smiled as he took in the living space. The house had an open plan, the lounge, dining and kitchen areas all stretched out one after the other, not a partition in sight. The furniture, like Blaine's, was mismatched but homely, and there were photographs  _everywhere:_ on the walls, on shelves and side tables, even propped up beside the TV.

Beside Blaine, Sam shifted awkwardly. "It's not much..." He said quietly, forgetting, for a moment, about Blaine's own living situation.

"Sam, your house is awesome." Blaine hobbled forward to inspect an obviously recent photograph of Sam and his two siblings rough housing, the taller boy's head thrown back as he was caught in a bout of raucous laughter. He found himself almost a little jealous of the obvious closeness of the Evans family. Blaine had never experienced that. Cooper was ten years his senior and they'd never really gotten along. He didn't even know if Cooper was aware that he'd left their home and their parents. Blaine shook his head and another photo caught his eye. He grinned. "Is that  _you_ dressed as the Pink Power Ranger?"

Sam actually turned pink. "I was six," he defended, then, "shut up."

"Sammy!" Another small Evans, this one female, came hurtling in from somewhere down the hallway that Blaine assumed housed the bathroom, laundry and bedrooms. She wrapped her arms around Sam's legs then, spying Blaine, blushed adorably.

"Stace," Sam said, prying her face away from his hip. "This is Blaine. B, this little Princess is Stacy."

"Hi!" Blaine said, bowing as best he could, causing her to giggle. "Princess Stacy, it is an honour to meet you."

She grinned up at her brother. "He's funny," she confided in what Blaine would normally call a stage whisper, "I like him."

Sam laughed and hoisted her onto his hip effortlessly. "I'll tell you a secret," he replied in the same sort of whisper, winking at Blaine. "So do I."

"Blaine!" An older feminine voice called and Blaine looked past Sam to follow the sound. A middle aged woman with a warm smile was striding into the room, making a beeline for him. She wrapped him in a hug and he closed his eyes, breathing in her perfume and sinking in to the most maternal embrace he'd ever experienced.

Yeah, he decided, he was definitely jealous of Sam's family dynamic.

The woman (who was obviously Sam's Mom) pulled back and placed her hand on Blaine's cheek, inspecting him with her green eyes. "I've heard so much about you," she said, eventually letting him go and pushing him down onto the couch. "Now, sit. Your ankle should stay elevated as much as possible."

Blaine felt a little bit overwhelmed again as he complied. "Thank you, Mrs Evans. Your home is lovely. I'm sorry I didn't bring anything for dinner...I didn't know I was joining you."

She snorted inelegantly at the accusing look he shot her eldest. "Firstly, Blaine, Mrs Evans is my mother-in-law." She made a face as she lowered herself into the seat beside him, and he found himself smiling, "so you can call me Mary. Secondly, you're our guest: you don't need to bring anything to dinner."

"But--"

"Sweetheart, you've obviously been raised with impeccable manners, but we're not all that formal here." As if illustrating her point, Stevie came tearing back into the room yelling, a dog hot on his heels. She sighed. "No running inside, Stevie."

The miniature version of Sam looked a little sheepish and ducked his head at the admonishment. "Sorry Mom. But Pearl and I were playin'."

Blaine was eyeing the dog wearily. It was a pit bull, dark grey with a white chest, and it was now sniffing at him intently. "Pearl?" He echoed, and the ears of the creature perked up. He willed himself to not be afraid. Dogs could smell fear.

The collected Evans family members were oblivious to Blaine's discomfort, Sam even putting his sister back down so he could reach out and scratch between the dog's ears. "Yeah," he said. "Mom named her. I wanted to call her Samantha, but Mom said--"

"No more 'S' names." The two young children finished, chorusing the words in unison.

Pearl was now pressing her nose right up against Blaine's thigh. He tentatively reached down a hand and allowed her to sniff it, proud of himself for not flinching when she licked him happily. Tension slowly evaporating, he slowly shifted his hand to her head--careful to approach from the side and not directly over her face--and gave her a gentle pat. She nuzzled at him, and Sam laughed.

"She wants a scratch, dude," the blond teen told him, "and she's not gonna let you go until she gets it."

Blaine smiled and scratched over one furred ear, enjoying the happy whine she let out as he obviously reached an itchy spot. She dropped her head onto his thigh and her tongue lolled out, her eyes closed as she reveled in the attention.

Sam scoffed playfully. "Spoilt brat dog."

-?-

Dinner itself turned out to be a casual affair, with the family passing plates of food and talking with their mouths full. Even Pearl was allowed to stay inside, sitting at Blaine's feet and sending him longing looks, begging to be slipped a treat or ten.

Dwight Evans, Sam's Dad, had arrived just before the table had been set, and he'd introduced himself just as casually as Mary had, shaking Blaine's hand and telling him to call him Dwight.

Over the meal, Dwight and Mary had been not-so-subtly asking Blaine about his apartment, his job and how he was liking McKinley. He knew that they were just being polite and concerned, but he hated being pitied and didn't particularly like the concept of anyone assuming that he was struggling.

"Mmm," he'd said, trying to take the conversation in a completely different direction. "Mary, is there fennel in this chicken? It's  _so_  good."

Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and kicked him under the table to get his attention, mouthing the words 'suck up' when nobody else was watching. Blaine kicked back and stuck out his tongue.

Mary watched the interaction but said nothing, choosing, instead, to gush over Blaine's question. She didn't often have anyone eat her meals who had much of an affinity for the culinary arts. "Yes! And there's a touch extra in the stuffing as well."

Blaine beamed and complimented the meal again, ignoring the next knock to his left shin. Then he and Mary launched into deep discussion about the different uses of fennel and Sam laughed out loud, earning himself a reproachful glare from his mother and a disappointed sigh from his friend.

"Oh, come  _on_ ," the oldest of the Evans children moaned playfully. "Fennel? That's what we're going to talk about? How about the musical? Blaine's got the lead, you know."

Dwight leaned across and clapped Blaine on the shoulder. "Congratulations! You'll make a fine Tony if even half of what Sam has told us about your talent is true."

"Dad!" Mary's lips quirked as she watched her eldest blush. He was clearly quite enthralled by Blaine Anderson.

"What?" Dwight asked. "Didn't you come home only a few days ago and tell us that Blaine's singing was amazing?"

Blaine, by this stage, was also blushing. "You said that?"

Sam threw his hands in the air. "Well, yeah. I said it when you auditioned, too."

Blaine bit his lip and studied his chicken to avoid meeting the blond's eyes. "I know...but...you told your parents? That's just...really nice of you, Sam." He licked his lips and looked at Dwight. "Did he tell you that he was also really good? So good that he got Bernardo?"

Sam groaned as the attention shifted back on to him, his mother declaring that they should celebrate with ice cream. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. "Can we talk about something else now?"

He really should have known better than to tempt fate. His mother nodded, looking back at their guest eagerly, her grin similar to that of the Disney Cheshire Cat.

"Do the boys in McKinley rate to the ones in Dalton?" Mary asked Blaine with a twinkle in her eyes. "I remember some of them during some of the school events. I have to admit the blazers do give them a certain--"

" _Mom_!" Sam interrupted, cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

"What?" Mary asked innocently. "I thought you looked very dapper in yours, Sam."

"To be honest, I really haven't been thinking about it," Blaine jumped in, hoping to spare his friend (and himself) further embarrassment.

"Well, what about Sam here?" Mary asked to Sam's horror. "Granted he is from Dalton so it doesn't really carry the argument, but don't you think my son is, how do you kids say it? Hot?"

"I can't believe you just asked that," Sam said, his face shocked, Dwight laughing into his glass of wine.

Blaine blinked at Mary his mouth opening and then closing, not knowing what to say.

Mary sighed, "It's a pity. Maybe we'll get lucky and Sam'll discover he's bi-curious."

"MOM!"

"Of all the people you've brought home for dinner," Mary said with a sniff, completely ignoring his indignant outburst, "Blaine is by far the best one of the bunch."

"I didn't bring him home for dinner, you threatened to smother him with maternal death if I didn't bring him over," Sam muttered.

Stevie leaned over to Blaine and whispered in a voice that could be heard all the way to China, "Mom didn't like Sam's girlfriends one bit."

"Does that mean  _you're_  Sam's girlfriend?" Stacy asked with an innocence only a six-year old can pull off.

"Would you all please just STOP TALKING?" Sam groaned, head in his hands. He shot an apologetic glance at Blaine from between his fingers. "I'm so, so sorry," he informed his flabbergasted friend. "They're not usually this crazy."

"You're the one that wanted us to change the topic, Sam," Dwight pointed out, smirking with amusement.

"To something, oh, I don't know... _sane_  and not uncomfortable."

"Why is Sam mad?" Stacy whispered to Stevie with the same volume as a rocket hitting escape velocity.

"Because Mom is teasing his new girlfriend," Stevie whispered back in the same volume.

"Hey Dad," Stevie asked, "is Blaine still a girlfriend if he's a boy?"

"Blaine isn't anyone's girlfriend," Sam answered. "Or boyfriend. He's a boy who is my friend...why am I justifying this to an eight year-old?" He turned to Blaine. "Now would be a good time to MacGyver your way out of here..."

Blaine shook his head with a laugh. Truthfully? He was enjoying the scene. Despite the awkwardness of being questioned by Sam's mother about how attractive he found the straight boy, it was nice to be included in such a familial moment. He'd never really shared this sort of experience before. Sure, there had been times with Cooper that had almost resembled this warm, haphazard sort of banter, but it hadn't come easily and he'd been worried of his father's wrath for behaving in an uncouth manner...

Also Cooper's banter always had a bite to it, an edge that hurt Blaine. Cooper was an only child for a long time and he didn't appreciate being taken out of the limelight, even by his younger brother. And when that younger brother proved to be as talented and charismatic as Cooper at eight to Cooper's eighteen, well, it didn't really engender familial love.

Blaine mentally shrugged at the memory. He had long since accepted that he and Cooper were not close and probably never would be.

But this? This was how he'd always thought what a family should be.

"Oh, no," he said with a cheeky grin. "Incapacitated, remember? Accepting my fate."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of OOC, there are a few characters whose background and abilities we slightly altered. Just go with the flow. One is readily apparent in this chapter, one will be explained later on.

Finn fumbled another dance step with a groan, trying not to cuss Mike out for making the routine a little more complicated than it needed to be. "I'm sorry," he apologised lamely as Artie called out for them to take it from the top again.

Mike waved him off. "It's fine," he said simply. "You'll get it."

The tall boy shrugged and looked around the rehearsal space, watching as others went about learning their lines, got measured up for costumes, practiced their own complex dance moves...and then his gaze landed on Blaine-freaking-Anderson.

The short guy was sitting against the far wall, legs crossed, his eyes closed. At first Finn thought he was asleep, but the subtle bobbing of Blaine's head said otherwise. Closer inspection revealed that he was listening to music; the telltale white cord running from his ear and down under the collar of his shirt bringing a smirk to Finn's lips.  _Busted,_ he thought. They were still technically in school hours and Mr Perfect wasn't working hard at keeping his leading role; he was slacking off and listening to his iPod!

Ignoring the music that had started up with his cue to start dancing again, Finn strode across the room and loomed over the boy on the floor, bending down and plucking the earbud straight out of Blaine's right ear.

"Hey!" The former Warbler exclaimed, snatching the item back instantly and scrambling to his feet. "What the hell?"

Rehearsals ground to a halt around them.  _Good_ , Finn decided. He liked the idea of everyone knowing that Blaine wasn't pulling his weight. "Look around you, dude," he said, gesturing widely at the room. "We're all working on our parts."

Blaine arched an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of Finn's explanation. "And?" He prompted.

"And you're not. You're  _our Tony,_ " Finn sneered the words, "and instead of working twice as hard, you're chilling on the floor listening to your iPod. Which I thought we weren't allowed to do." He folded his arms across his chest, quite proud of himself.

"Blaine?" Ms Pillsbury asked, coming to stand between them, her doe-eyes wide and surprised. "Is this true?"

Finn's smugness grew as Blaine took a deep breath. He started mentally preparing his acceptance of the Tony role, because the teachers wouldn't let Blaine keep it now, right? Not after Blaine had broken the rules and been so disrespectful of everyone else's hard work.

"I was listening to my iPod, yes," Blaine answered, and Finn only just managed to prevent a self-congratulatory fist pump, "but I've only got Tony's songs on here." He fished the MP3 player from his pocket and handed it over to the guidance counsellor with a sheepishly apologetic smile that made the girl beside Finn sigh quietly, much to his annoyance.

Blaine was still talking. "I find it's easier to learn the lyrics by listening to them. I mean, I already know them, obviously, but it's helping me get into character as well... It's silly, isn't it?"

Finn nodded to himself, looking expectantly at Ms P for her corresponding reaction. What he saw instead, however, was a delighted smile.

"Oh, wow, Blaine. No, I don't think you're being silly at all. This shows great dedication and initiative." She gave the iPod back to him happily. "I am impressed."

"That's  _all_  you've got on your iPod?" Artie asked from Finn's side, making the taller boy jump a little. He hadn't heard him roll up! Blaine nodded and Artie whistled, shaking his head. "I could not do that. I'd go nuts. Way to be dedicated, bro. I'm with Ms P; totally impressed."

"Yes, Blaine," Rachel agreed, effortlessly emerging from the gathered crowd and sliding in beside her co-star, linking her arm in his. "I don't know why I didn't think of doing so myself sooner! I feel like such an amateur. You're definitely destined to be leading man material."

Finn wanted to throw his arms in the air and scream. What the hell was  _wrong_  with these people?

"Finn?" Rachel asked expectantly, and, instead of her usual look of adoration, Finn noticed that she just looked annoyed. "Aren't you going to apologise to Blaine? You've made a spectacle of him today for nothing."

He wanted to argue. He wanted to stomp his feet and demand that she start seeing things his way again, like she had done before the gay wonderboy ever walked down the halls of McKinley, but  _everyone_ was looking at him now, and even he knew when he was beaten. He sighed and glared at the floor. "Sorry, man," he mumbled half-heartedly at best.

Blaine just shrugged. "It's okay," he replied, "you thought I was doing wrong by everyone. It was sort of commendable of you to take a stand."

This time, a bunch of girls  _did_ swoon. Including Rachel.

"Oh, Blaine!" she gushed, making Finn feel ten kinds of shitty, "you're  _such_  a good sport!"

Unable to take it anymore, Finn looked for Mike. "Come on, dude," he sighed, "from the top again."

-?-

Rehearsals were fun but tiring. Mike took his job as lead choreographer and dance captain seriously. While the New Directions were National Champions, not all of them were dancers. Only Rachel, Blaine and Brittany had formal training, and Quinn, Santana and Tina at least had some dance experience because of being Cheerios. But the others, while some were lucky enough to possess some natural grace, just weren't used to the pace that more dedicated dancers, like Mike, were used to. Surprisingly, it was Kurt who broke first.

"Mike!" Kurt's voice cut through the auditorium like a hot knife through butter. "I would like to remind you that unlike your abstastic self, we aren't robots. The rest of us actually have to breathe between steps!"

Mike raised one eyebrow at Kurt.

"Don't give me that! I practice at home every day without fail! So much so that my father now knows the entire score by heart!"

Mike tilted his head to one side.

"Fine! You win, but just so you know, I'm only putting up with your fascist dance schedule because when all this is over you'll be able to bounce a quarter off my ass!"

Quick as a whip, from the other side of the stage, Unique called back, "Like  _that's_  what you'd want him to do to your ass!"

There was a moment of silence before Sam's guffawing laughter echoed through the auditorium. "Dude," he broke line and held up his hand to the dark skinned diva for a high five.

"Samuel!" Rachel shook her head, her hands now on her hips. "What have I told you about encouraging them?" She gestured towards Mike. "Poor Michael is  _trying_  to teach some very complicated choreography and you are not helping him."

The blond grinned, completely unrepentant. "But Mike loves me."

Mike arched an eyebrow at him, arms now folded across his chest, his disapproval obvious.

Rachel sighed. "I hate to say I told you so, Sam."

"Who are you kidding, honey?" Unique laughed. "You  _love_ to say it."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Regardless," she pressed on, turning back to Sam, "we're all waiting on you."

Sam shrugged, winked at Mike, and, with one final, "You  _know_  you love me," took his place back in line.

-?-

Blaine grunted when he got a sharp pain from his ankle. He powered through it so he could move into place. Puck had signalled to him--to  _him_ \--to get into position and he wasn't going to miss this chance. He faked the defender, although that meant putting all his weight on his right ankle for a moment. The pain almost made him pass out, almost but not quite, but he succeeded and got around the guy just as Puck was in the right place to pass him the ball. He caught it and, with an almost negligent flick, sent it rocketing into the goal.

The crowd roared as the Titans' lead grew. Blaine let the crowd's approval and adulation fill him up and for a minute he could forget the pain.

He heard the substitution whistle and he saw that Coach was replacing him. For a second he was worried that Beiste noticed him favoring his right ankle, but as he drew near, all she said was, "Great job Anderson, we're going to win this even if we don't score another goal tonight. You rest. I'll need you in tip-top shape for qualifiers."

Blaine just nodded and sat on the bench, relieved that he didn't get caught.

Much later in the gym, Blaine ignored the hollering and shouts of the team as they celebrated another win. Blaine kept his head down as he put away his equipment, quietly wondering if he should just pack up and shower at home or fiddle around with his stuff and wait until everyone else was done showering. He  _really_  wanted a shower.

"Hey Ollie! What time will you be at Kitty's place?"

Ah yes, the celebratory party at Kitty Wilde's house. He didn't get an invite, no surprise there, but at least that meant that the guys would hurry, so he probably wouldn't have to wait long to shower after all.

"Good job, Anderson."

Blaine blinked and looked up. It was Rutherford. He stared at the guy and the guy, Matt, blushed but seemed to gather his resolve. He nodded at Blaine and then walked out of the gym.

Blaine was shocked. While Rutherford kept his distance and wasn't one of the guys who shoved him around or called him names, he didn't defend Blaine either and he  _did_  join in when they used to play keep-away.

Blaine just shrugged and, noticing that the showers were clear, went and took his well-earned reward. When he got back, the locker rooms were well and truly empty and his bag was emptied onto the wet floor.

Blaine cursed himself. A kind word from Rutherford had made him careless. He sighed, telling himself that at least they hadn't run off with it or sprayed the inside of his bag with shaving cream like last time.

-?-

The weekend found Blaine reorganizing the CD racks at work. It was an hour before the store opened and it was the first time that Alex was letting him mind the store on his own. He'd let Blaine in earlier but told him that he was having brunch with his family, simply instructing Blaine to "make him plenty of the money".

Blaine was proud that he had earned Alex's trust but he was also a little apprehensive. The store generally saw light traffic--its customer base was small but dedicated--but early Saturday and Sunday afternoons could often see the little store get completely swamped.

Once he'd asked his boss how he had used to manage on his own. Alex's reply had made him equally pleased and embarrassed.

"You think store was always this full? Perhaps you were thinking old Alexei was feeling sorry for young Blaine, hmm?" Alex had asked with a twinkle in his eye. "I have, how you say, loyal customers but not very big. But you, boychik, you bring in new people. Did I not say you are good for business?"

Blaine had blushed and Alex had waved him back to work, but the words continued to play on Blaine's mind, even a week or so after the fact.

Sam was coming by after lunch to help out. He'd taken to doing that on weekends where the DQ failed to roster him on, and Alex was very well pleased. Sam didn't know as much about music as Blaine but he knew enough. He also flirted outrageously with the customers, in the way only Sam Evans could that was fun and harmless. Only Sam could get away with flirting with a girl in front of her boyfriend and have the boyfriend smile and grin in response, maybe because Sam happily interacted with the boyfriend as well.

The morning went quickly. Blaine even got to play some piano when a customer couldn't decide between the classic bridal march or Pachelbel's Canon for her wedding, prompting Blaine to play both for her. Blaine eventually made a sale when he suggested "Song to the Moon" from Dvořak's Rusalka.

She loved it so much that she bought three CDs of different versions of the opera.

Following her enthusiastic reply, Blaine was approached by a couple of Saturday browsers if he had any suggestions on which opera they should listen to and Blaine spent a lovely hour discussing it with them, with several regulars throwing in their own ideas.

As Blaine was closing for lunch, he thought he saw a familiar mohawk duck into a nearby alley, but he chalked it up to paranoia after what had happened after the last game.

He started when he heard someone knock on the door, turning to see a grinning Sam holding up a basket. Blaine grinned and unlocked the door, letting Sam in.

"Sam, your mom is totally spoiling me."

"Whoa there Anderson," Sam interrupted. "How do you know that she didn't make  _me_  a packed lunch and I just brought it over to share with you?"

Blaine just gave Sam a look and Sam grinned. "Yeah, you're right, it's for you. You're totally her favorite," he admitted without a trace of rancor.

"That's because I actually know which fork to use on the table," Blaine said as he put a cloth on the counter while Sam unpacked their lunch.

"'Mary, is there fennel in this chicken? It's  _so_  good'," Sam mimicked Blaine exactly and Blaine blushed. "Way to make me look bad, Anderson."

"I couldn't help it!" Blaine exclaimed laughing. "It was really good and I wanted to make sure I got the herb right!"

Sam snorted. "Whatever, but you totally won her over that night, B."

Blaine grinned as Sam muttered "fennel" under his breath good-naturedly.

"Um, Sam, there's only one fork and knife here," Blaine said.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked as he searched through the basket. "Huh, I guess when I was packing  _your_  lunch I forgot that I was joining you." Sam shrugged. "You don't mind sharing, do you? I promise I don't have cooties."

"Are you sure, Sam?" Blaine asked with a cheeky grin as he handed the fork over. "Because I kinda know where that mouth has been...cough- _Santana_ -cough."

"Dude!" Sam tried hard to keep his mouth from smiling. "That's low!"

"But true," Blaine said unrepentantly.

"Promise you won't bring up the dreaded ex and I'll let you have the drumstick."

"God you're easy," Blaine said as he grabbed the offered piece. "Deal."

The rest of their lunch went by and soon they reopened and the store was doing brisk business. Blaine was relieved to see Alex show up an hour later because, even with Sam's help,things were fairly hectic.

Alex was grinning when he approached Blaine. "Boychik! I am being happy to see many customers today."

"I'm so glad you're here, Alex, even with Sam's help we're having a hard time keeping up."

"Ah, these are kinds of problems I like," Alex said rubbing his hands together. "I will take care of register, you charm customers, da?"

"Da," Blaine shot back cheekily.

"Oh, and Blaine," Alex calls out to him, "my granddaughter is here. She is parking car. I will introduce you two later. Make sure Samuel is busy with customers? He is good boy but he likes girls. I do not trust him with my chavaleh."

"Don't worry Alex," Blaine answered, "I'll take care of it."

Keeping one eye out for what he assumed would be a raven-haired or blonde beauty, Blaine kept himself busy dealing with the customers. When he finally got a moment free he heard a husky voice behind him.

"So  _you're_  the big deal Gramps keeps talking about."

Blaine turned around and couldn't keep the shock from his face. He knew her, he saw her around school, and while Blaine prided himself on having a wider range than most people on what was considered beautiful, Lauren Zizes certainly wasn't what he was expecting based on what Alex had said.

Lauren smirked at him, and he realized she knew  _exactly_  what he was thinking. Blaine felt himself blush in embarrassment.

"Surprised, Anderson?" Lauren asked him with a note of challenge in her voice.

Blaine took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. "Yes, but I shouldn't have been." When Lauren's eyebrows rose in disbelief, Blaine shrugged and continued, "I should have known better. Alex told me he spent quite a few years growing up in Siberia. I should have realized that he would appreciate a different kind of beauty. Strength is beautiful to him."

Lauren looked searchingly into Blaine's eyes and, for a minute, Blaine was afraid she'd deck him. But she seemed to have found something she liked because she nodded once.

"Not bad, Anderson," she said, and Blaine could hear the hostility leave her voice. "Not bad at all."

With that she turned around and walked out into the back, whipping out her cell phone.

"Isn't she magnificent?"

Blaine started; he hadn't heard Alex approach. "She is something else," he agreed.

About an hour later, Blaine found himself struggling with two large garbage bags to dump outside in the alley. He should have done this hours ago, but with the amount of customers that had overrun the shop, he just hadn't found the time.

When he opened the back door, he received the second shock of the day. There was Lauren Zizes, the unexpected granddaughter of his boss, locking lips with no one else but Noah Puckerman, self-proclaimed Badass of McKinley High. He was sure he was standing there with his mouth open; his brain couldn't finish making the connection.

Then Lauren saw him. Her eyes narrowed and Blaine suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a wolf.

"Anderson," she growled out. Puck looked up and saw Blaine standing there. His eyes narrowed and he suddenly looked angry, but Blaine could also read the fear in his eyes.

Blaine felt righteous indignation flood through him.  _He's ashamed of being with Lauren!_ he thought.  _He's afraid of what other people would think about him dating_ _someone who doesn't look_ _like Santana or Quinn! No wonder he's sneaking around!_

Blaine was now sure that it was Puckerman he saw earlier on, probably coming over to see Lauren. He turned back to the girl and tried to keep the pity from showing in his eyes or in his voice. Blaine tried to think of a way to break it to her without meddling. He owed it to Alex.

Lauren sighed and walked towards Blaine.

"Cool it, hot shot," she said. "I know what you're thinking and I can tell you now to drop it."

Blaine got a momentary flashback to when he had spoken the same words to Sam. He realized that there could be more than one way to look at this and Lauren didn't look the type that anyone took advantage of. He decided to hear her out first.

"Yes I'm seeing Puck, not that it's any of your business, but we are dating and we are keeping it on the down-low," she affirmed, then her eyes grew even more steely. "But that's because  _I_  said so. Got it, sport?"

Blaine blinked and looked over at Puck. Blaine received his third shock of the day when he saw how  _hurt_  Puck looked. Blaine didn't know what the hell was going on but Lauren obviously knew what she was doing and Puck wasn't really a friend so it wasn't really his business. Better to leave this well enough alone. He had enough problems of his own.

"It's your business, Lauren," Blaine said, "I don't want any trouble from you, Puckerman or your grandfather, okay?"

"See that's what I'm worried about, cupcake. Gramps finding out. He obviously doesn't know about this and I know that he won't approve. Not that it will stop me from seeing Puck whether I get Gramps' approval or not, but I don't really want to fight my grandfather. Plus think of my reputation if it got around that I'm dating Puckerman."

Blaine's head was reeling. _Wait, **she**_ _was the one who was ashamed of_ _ **Puck**_ _?_

"Um, whatever you say Lauren," He answered. He refused to look at Puck. Blaine was worried that whatever his expression was, it couldn't be good, and he didn't want to risk Puck getting the wrong idea. Hell, Blaine didn't even know  _what_  to think of this!

He threw the bags into the dumpster quickly and was about to walk back inside when Alex came out, calling for him. Blaine swore under his breath.

"Blaine? Who is this boy?" Alex asked with a suspicious tone.

"Oh," Blaine said, thinking quickly, "this is Puck. He's, uh, a friend of mine"  _Don't kill me_ , he thought at the mohawked jock. "We're on the lacrosse team together. He's, uh, here to see me." Then it took all of Blaine's willpower to stifle a groan and to keep eye contact with Alex.  _Why did I say that?_ he asked himself.  _Covering up other people's bullshit is what got me into trouble in the first place!_

"Is this right, chavaleh?" He asked Lauren.

"Sure Gramps," Lauren replied as if nothing at all was wrong. Blaine thought she must have ice water for blood.

"Why is he out here? Why not come inside store?"

"Um, that's because..." Blaine looked helplessly at Lauren and Puck.

Lauren rolled her eyes. "That's because Puck is seeing Blaine but he's not out yet. It's their only time for some tongue-on-tongue action and, Gramps, you are totally cramping their style."

"Hmph," Blaine could see Alex wasn't buying it. "Why are you out here then, hmm?"

"I was totally watching," Lauren said, "it's hot. Go ahead boys, don't let us stop you."

Blaine's eyes grew big and he saw that Lauren was totally serious. No way would Puck  _ever_ go for it. Hell, no way did  _he_  want to go for it, Puckerman's sex appeal be damned. The mohawked jock looked at his secret girlfriend for a moment and then at Blaine.  _This is why I should just shut the hell up!_ Blaine silently chastised himself.  _I so don't need this right now!_

To Blaine's surprise--and horror--the other boy started advancing on him. "I'm not comfortable with an audience, Lauren," Puck said, doing a surprisingly good job of looking shy and unsure, "So, no, An- _Blaine_ and I won't be putting on a show for you." He was right in front of Blaine now, close enough for the shorter boy to breathe in his cologne, a heady mix of spice and musk and cinnamon.

Blaine swallowed and tensed only marginally as the taller boy closed the space between them and wrapped him in a convincing hug. Puck's breath ghosted over Blaine's ear as he whispered, "You breathe a word of this to anyone, Anderson, and your life won't be worth living. Got me?"

Blaine licked his lips and made a sound of agreement, which, to Alex, probably just looked like the boys were whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Puck pulled back and gave Blaine an intense look. "So, I'll see you in school,  _babe_."

Blaine nodded, getting the message loud and clear, and made the decision to stay far, far away from Lauren Zizes wherever and whenever possible. He turned to his employer and delved deep into his acting repertoire. "I'm sorry, Alex, for wasting work time on a boy. It  _won't_  happen again." He made sure to send a pointed look towards the others for emphasis. He hoped that Puck and Zizes got the message. He was not covering up for anyone ever again.

"What won't happen again?" Sam's voice asked, having snuck up on them all. He looked a little surprised to see Puck and Lauren but shrugged it off, at least until Alex spoke.

"Blaine has been sneaking around with this boy with bad haircut," Alex gestured towards Puck and Sam wanted to question him because he had to be mistaken.

But Puck was standing so close to Blaine but Blaine, who to Sam's trained eye to anything Blaine could see was obviously uncomfortable, still wasn't making any move to back away...

Filled with some emotion that he didn't really want to name, Sam clenched his jaw and looked at Alex determinedly. "Okay, well, there's a customer asking questions about Rachmaninov," and he was so proud of himself for pronouncing it right, "and I can't help her. And I'm kind of beat, so I was thinking I'd head home early. Is that okay?"

Blaine frowned at that. He and Sam usually closed up and went back to his apartment to talk nonsense and just hang out. But, if Sam really was too tired, Blaine guessed he understood. It didn't prevent the pang of bitter disappointment from stabbing at him, though.  _Nothing good ever comes from lying to your friends, I have **got**  to_ _remember that,_ he told himself firmly.

Alex agreed and sent Lauren inside, pointedly wishing Puck a good day and then gesturing for Blaine to run ahead. "You go help customer," he urged, "Samuel, wait a moment."

Sam nodded and waited by the door, refusing to look at Blaine as he passed. How could his friend--his best friend, even--have kept something as monumental as dating his former bully from him?

"What is that saying you have here in America, about appearances?"

Sam was taken aback by the question but decided to answer it. "Um, the one about appearances can be deceiving?"

"Yes, that is the one," Alex said with a sad smile. "Where I grew up, we did not have that luxury. Everything that we saw, that is what it was. Snow was snow, wood was wood, if Bubeh said to come inside, you go inside. We could not afford to have appearances."

Sam nodded, not quite understanding where Alex was going but was willing to listen to him. He would rather stay out there for another hour than see Blaine right then (although  _why_  that was he wasn't willing to face yet).

"Here in America life is easier," Alex continued as if he had all the time in the world, "and so people respect other things. They admire appearances. My granddaughter, she is strong. She is beautiful  _because_  she is strong. Where I grew up, my chavaleh would be prized but here, here she is not prized."

Sam wished that Alex would get to the point and Alex seemed to sense his impatience.

"Boy with bad haircut was not here for boychik, he was here for my chavaleh. They think that Old Alexei does not see but I do see. Boy with bad haircut must be worthy of her strength, do  _you_  see?"

"Um, Puck is actually seeing Lauren on the sly and to keep it from you they're pretending that he's actually seeing Blaine?"

"Appearances can be deceiving," Alex says with a shrug.

"Um, with all due respect Alex," Sam responded exasperatedly, "why didn't you just say so?"

"Ah the young these days! They don't see!" Alex threw his hands in the air as he walked past Sam. "And how do you know that story was just about my chavaleh and her suitor, hmm? Appearances, hah!"

Sam shook himself and muttered about cryptic, old men. "Crazy he is," Sam spoke under his breath in his best Yoda-voice. "Mysterious he tries to be. Fail he does. Irritation all he accomplishes."

As he walked back inside he felt better knowing that Blaine wasn't seeing Puck. Because it wouldn't have been healthy, that's all. It wouldn't be a good thing for Blaine to be seeing someone who used to bully him. And with that final thought, Sam approached Blaine with a lighter heart.

"Irritation leads to anger."

"What, Sam?" Blaine asked, puzzled.

"Anger leads to hate."

"Sam? Are you okay? I thought you were going home?"

"Hate leads to suffering."

"Okay Yoda," Blaine said, rolling his eyes, "you're obviously feeling better. Can you bring in another guitar from storage?"

"Do. Or do not. There is no try."

"You're  _such_  a dweeb," Blaine chuckled as Sam quickly moved to the back of the store, answering Blaine's laugh with one of his own.

-?-

It was Monday again before he knew it, and Blaine had spent his entire day looking forward to his rehearsal period. It had arrived quickly enough, though, and he currently stood smiling at Rachel and she was grinning right back at him. Their last notes still hung in the air but Blaine knew they killed  _Tonight_.

"Oh. My. God," Kurt had his hands clasped in front of his chest, his eyes were suspiciously bright. "I feel...that was...I just can't...oh my God!"

"Okay, maybe you can be Maria after all," Unique said off-handedly, but no one missed her surreptitiously wiping her eye.

Blaine had a huge smile as everyone continued complimenting him and Rachel on the duet. He saw Sam standing in the back with an expression on his face that Blaine could read all too well. He excused himself and walked to his friend.

"Fine, you were right," he said with a smile. "Go ahead, say it. You've earned it."

Sam's face broke out into an impossibly wide grin. "I told you so! I knew you were going to love this! I told you! I told you!"

Blaine laughed and let him gloat. He was feeling too good to feel annoyed.

-?-

"Oh. Em. Gee, guys!" Sugar exclaimed, taking her seat at the glee lunch table across from Rachel. "That last rehearsal, like, blew my mind. You and Mr Hottie McHotpants were, like,  _meant_ to play star-crossed lovers, Rach."

Rachel preened under the praise, shaking her head at the newest nickname for Blaine. "Hottie McHotpants, Sugar?  _Really_?"

Sugar shrugged. "He's hot," she extrapolated, as though that explained everything. Leaning forward on her elbows, she swooned. "When you guys sang  _Tonight Tonight,_ I almost ran on stage and threw myself at him. I don't know  _how_ you do it, Rach. You're the perfect Maria."

A strangled noise came from further down the table and the girls turned their heads to see Mercedes standing up and snatching her lunch tray up, slamming it on top of the trash can on her way out the door.

Sugar frowned and cocked her head to the side. "What'd I say?" She asked, genuinely perplexed.

Rachel sighed. "It's okay, Sugar," she said, "Mercedes has yet to come to terms with the consequences of her own actions. That is, she's upset that she's thrown away what was more than likely her only chance to have a leading role in a production like this." The dark-skinned diva's failed ultimatum had become common knowledge by now, though Rachel had (on a few occasions) found herself labelled the villain in the retelling. But, as with her entire high school career, she held her head high and reminded herself that she was destined for greatness and this little cow-town would one day rue the day they ever crossed Rachel Barbra Berry.

Santana scoffed and made a pointed effort to push Rachel as she sauntered past, heading in the same direction Mercedes had left. "Watch it, RuPaul," she spat, sneering at Blaine as he approached from the cafeteria line. "You too, Frodo."

He looked bewildered. "What was that all about?" He asked as he slid into place beside Rachel.

She shook her head. "The usual, I suppose. Though why she's upset with you, I can only put to pure conjecture at this point. I'm assuming it has something to do with your decision to befriend me...and Sam. She's rather territorial about her conquests."

Blaine nodded, accepting that as valid an explanation as any. "Well, I can't help that you guys are awesome friends," he told her, stealing a celery stick from her tray.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Blaine Anderson, but not into my lunch," she informed him, stealing it back before he could bite into it.

-?-

"Can you believe the nerve of them?" Mercedes ranted to Finn as they filed into their elective art class. "Making those digs at me like that? In the cafeteria where  _everyone_  could hear?" She screwed up her face, sourly mimicking Sugar. "'Oh Rachel, you're a better Maria than Mercedes'."

Finn frowned. "I don't think she actually said those words..."

His companion waved dismissively. "She might as well have! It's humiliating!  _I_ should be Maria, not her. Just like  _you_ should be Tony. Not that hairy little gay boy. That's pretty insulting, too, you know," she goaded, knowing just which buttons to push to bring Finn up to her level. "I mean, you're the tall, strong, male lead in New Directions...and instead they give Tony to some short furry little-"-

"Hey guys," the object of her ranting cut in, taking his seat in front of them, oblivious to what she'd been saying.

Finn scowled at the back of his gel helmet. "Dude, why are you even in this class?" He asked, not bothering to couch the resentment in his voice. Mercedes' nagging had done as she'd intended, making him focus on all the negatives about Blaine's presence.

The former Warbler turned back around to face the glee members. "I'm sorry, what?" He asked, somewhat confused. "What's wrong with me taking an art elective?"

"You know we don't do Life Drawing in this class, right?" Mercedes asked, her tone saccharine sweet, not bothering to answer his question. "Like, there won't be any naked men or anything, if that's why you joined."

"I really don't--"

Finn caught up and looked at Mercedes, a little revolted. "Oh, gross."

Blaine rolled his eyes. So that was how it was going to be? He didn't need this. Whatever their problem was, he wasn't going to play along. "You're right," he told them with a liberal dose of sarcasm. "So, if you don't mind, I'm going to turn back around and forget we even had this conversation." He faced the front of the classroom again, wondering what it was, exactly, that he'd done to suddenly spark so much hostility from various members of the glee club. Part of him wanted to ask Sam, but he thought that a) that might make things worse and b) this was his issue, nobody else's.

-?-

Finn didn't realize how thunderous his expression was as he looked at Blaine, Sam and Mike moving like lightning on the stage. Fortunately for him, everyone was too busy looking at the same three boys to notice his sour face. Mike had choreographed a pretty impressive piece involving jumps, kicks and almost acrobatic moves to represent the climactic fight between Tony, Bernardo and Riff. Granted, the lion's share of the difficult moves rested on Mike, but Blaine had several tricky ones as well. Even Sam wasn't spared, although his relied more on his strength than on his agility.

Finn had to admit to himself that there was no way he would have been able to pull that off. Even Sam's part would have stumped him. Instead of calming him though, this realisation only fed his resentment. If he were Tony, Finn thought that they wouldn't have had to resort to cheap gimmicks. He would've made the love thing with Rachel work. And there wouldn't be any of this Mercedes drama because, if  _he_  were Tony, everyone would see how perfect he and Rachel were together that no one would question it, not even Mercedes. Which was a good thing, too, because as much as he liked Mercedes as a friend, he didn't know if he could act like he was attracted to her. Mercedes wasn't his type, she was too... _loud,_  but not in a Rachel way which would have been okay.

And Blaine was gay! How would anyone find it romantic when the lead actor liked dick? Who would believe it? Finn was positive that they only cast Blaine so they could prove that they weren't against gay people but how was that fair to him? Finn's step-brother was gay, that should qualify him as a gay ally or something. Right?

He twirled his baton, which he had to admit was kinda cool, and then quickly picked it off the floor when he dropped it. He looked around and was relieved when no one noticed. He could do this, twirl a baton. Eventually. See, if he was Tony he wouldn't have to worry about twirling a baton and he could just focus on making everyone believe that he loved Rachel. Everyone but Quinn, of course, because it was just acting.

Finn looked at Rachel who was arguing with Brad the Piano Guy about him being off. She looked hot in her dance outfit.  _Speaking of dance outfits_...he glanced over at Santana and Brittany who were going over some dance moves. His appreciation of Brittany's legs and Santana's ass was interrupted by Tina's and Quinn's voices as they fought over a stupid detail on one of the costumes.

Finn noticed that he was all alone. This couldn't be right; he was the co-captain of the glee club, not some outsider. He looked around to see who he could join: Kurt was gossiping with Unique and Sugar: no. Rachel? No, Quinn would kill him. Artie was with Ms P, and Joe and Rory had gone to pick up something, Finn didn't remember. He'd heard the word "volunteer" and made himself scarce. He was sorry about it now.

As he was looking around he saw that the Three Musketeers-- _no, wait, that's too cool--_ Alvin and the Chipmunks? But then which one was Alvin? Mike? He didn't look like an Alvin, he looked like a Simon, but he was leading the trio, so...

Never mind,  _THEY_  were done. Mike pulled Sam aside to go over some steps and Blaine put on his ear buds. Finn frowned (again) remembering putting up a stink on the first day of rehearsal when he saw Blaine in those ear buds, hoping to get him in trouble, only to be embarrassed when Blaine proved that he was listening to Tony's songs. Finn grimaced recalling when both Artie and Ms P praised Blaine for his dedication. And when Rachel affirmed that that was what a true leading man would do.

He was watching Blaine, who was all gross and sweaty. The short dude was stretching and then suddenly lifted his shirt to wipe his face. And then Finn heard it.  _Silence_. He looked around and saw everyone had stopped what they were doing and the girls were just staring at Blaine with  _hungry_  expressions.

Even Quinn!

_What the fuck? The dude likes dudes!_

Finn's scowl turned murderous as he looked at Blaine trying to figure out what the big deal was. Okay, so the guy had abs, he'd give him that. But, as far as he could see, that was it. He was darker than Finn and, sure, he had a bigger chest despite being shorter, but he was, like, hairy like an old dude! He even had a trail of hair going down his stomach past the garter of his sweat-shorts!

_How can that be attractive?_

Did he just hear Unique  _growl_?

When Blaine pulled his shirt in front of him and looked at it with intense concentration, Finn began to wonder if he was doing this on purpose, because he saw how the action caused Blaine's arm muscles to bunch up. Somewhere across the room, Sugar let out a "woof". Seeing how wet his shirt was, Blaine shrugged and in one smooth motion took it off.

Finn then heard a low moan from Kurt.

From  _Kurt_! His own brother! Dude, this was just  _wrong_.

As Blaine was struggling to free his shirt from his headphone cords (now Finn was  _sure_ the guy was showing off, because if he just took off his ear buds he'd get it untangled in a jiffy), Sam walked up to Blaine with a knowing smirk on his face. He reached over and pulled a bud from Blaine's ear.

"Put that away Romeo, there are children present," Sam said in the very quiet auditorium. Finn was not happy when he saw that Quinn-- _his_  girlfriend!--had a thoughtful look on her face and a smirk on her lips as she looked Blaine up and down appraisingly.

"Wait, what?" Blaine turned to Sam with a puzzled expression. He finally got his shirt free and pulled out a fresh one from his bag.

"C'mon," Sam said with a laugh, putting his arm around Blaine's shoulders and steering him towards the exit, "we're out of bottled water and nobody else needs the distraction."

"What distraction?" Blaine asked, allowing himself to be led away, apparently not hearing the murmurs of disappointment or the mutters of promised pain for Sam.

Finn, however, heard it all, but what  _really_  made him stalk off in a huff was when he turned to find Rachel blushing furiously, her eyes glued to Blaine's retreating form.

-?-

Blaine arrived early to rehearsal as was his habit. He came in from the back and was working his way towards the stage when he heard silvery voices filling the air. He recognized it as  _Sous le dôme épais:_ the Flower Duet from the opera Lakmé. He wondered who could the singers be because they were singing it really well.

As he silently walked up to the wings, there on the stage were Rachel and, shockingly, Sugar. Sugar was seated at the piano, her fingers dancing skillfully over the ivory, and Rachel was standing by her. Rachel was singing the soprano part and Sugar the mezzo-soprano. Blaine was entranced.

Soon they were done. Sugar nodded at Rachel.

"That was better, Rachel," she said. "Remember that this duet? It's, like, supposed to be silvery and light and stuff? So you have to imagine that you're on a cloud or in Tiffany's, okay?"

"Got it," Rachel said making notations on a music sheet. "Thanks again for helping me work on this, Sugar."

"Hey, no problem," Sugar waved her hand nonchalantly. "When you're really up to it we should totally drop the French dudes and hit Verdi. He's really hot."

Blaine blinked at the thought that Sugar Motta was not only apparently classically trained but was knowledgeable about opera. Then again, she  _was_ in glee, she should be able to sing. Who would take in someone who  _couldn't_  sing into a show choir? He wondered, though, why he hadn't heard more about her talent being utilised. Did Will Schuester not know what he was working with?

Blaine shook his head and joined the ladies, greeting them enthusiastically and complimented them on their performance. When the others started trickling in, they saw Sugar and Blaine sitting in a corner talking animatedly in what sounded like Italian.

-?-

Mary Evans swore when she looked at the clock. Her family would be shocked to hear it, but Mary was frustrated and angry and she had no one to blame but herself. She promised to put a dollar in the Swear Jar and indulged by cussing three more times for good measure.

She worked part-time for  _Petal Attraction_  arranging and designing floral arrangements. The store couldn't afford to hire her full-time but this was okay with her as it allowed for extra income but still gave her time to be with her kids, especially the two younger ones.

She normally came in three times a week for four hours, but was on call for weddings and other special events, planned out in advance in meticulous detail by her boss, Ricardo. Today, however, another supplier could not meet the demand for a wedding and they were booked at the last minute to make up the difference. Ricardo could not afford to turn down this opportunity and Mary found herself designing and arranging fifty pieces by herself while Ricardo and his assistant, Troy, were out sourcing more blooms.

She had lost track of time. Between manning the store and trying to finish as many arrangements as she could with the available flowers, she was at the end of her rope. She needed to pick up her two youngest in ten minutes and Troy wasn't back yet. She checked her phone and saw two missed calls and a message from Troy telling her he had the flowers but wouldn't be back in time to relieve her. She couldn't close the store either, because, in the chaos, Troy had left his keys behind.

Dwight was doing inventory and wouldn't be home until almost dinner and now it was too late to call Sam to come over and get the car from her. Why didn't Dwight let Sam take his car when he knew he'd be in the store the whole day? She quickly squelched that thought as unfair of her; no one had expected this wedding emergency to happen. She didn't even remember if Sam had football, glee or musical practice today, or whether he could even pick up Stevie and Stacy if he did have the car. Throwing a prayer on high, she called her eldest anyway and prayed that he wasn't on the field. Her heart lifted when he answered after the second ring.

"Hi Mom, what can I do for you?"

"Oh Sam!" Mary sighed in relief. "Thank God you answered! You don't have practice today, do you?"

"Mom, are you okay?" Sam asked, concern coloring his voice.

"Yes," she answered, not wanting to alarm her son, "things got crazy here at the flower shop and I lost track of time. Can you pick up your brother and sister? Do you have money for cab fare? I'll pay you when I get home." Mary made a quick calculation and figured they could afford the expense. Besides she'd be getting a bonus for this wedding and the peace of mind was worth it.

"Mom, calm down it's alright," Sam reassured her. "I have Blaine's car, remember? I'm already at the school waiting for them to come out. Everything's totally under control."

Mary sagged against the counter, tension dissipating immediately from her. She  _had_  forgotten that Sam's friend had pretty much given him his car to use. "Oh Sam, you have  _no_  idea how relieved I am! I completely forgot."

"It's cool, Mom," her son said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Um, since I'm taking them home and it sounds like you're going to be working late and I have to keep an eye on the rugrats, can Blaine stay for dinner?"

Mary smiled as she heard Blaine's chagrinned shout of "Sam!" over the phone. That boy was so just so proper, sometimes to a fault. "Of course," she replied. "We're about due for another dinner anyway."

She could hear her son telling his friend to, "Relax, dude, Mom already said yes, so chill."

"I'll think we still have some chops in the freezer, can you lay them out to thaw?"

"I got it, we'll be fine...gotta go! I see the unholy terrors. Bye Mom!"

"Goodbye Sam," she answerd and gratefully hung up the phone. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to finally relax. Maybe she and Dwight should revisit their rule about not letting their two younger kids take the bus before they were ten? Granted it had been a year since Stevie had almost been run over but...well,that was a thought for later with Dwight.

"Mary! I'm so, so sorry!" Mary turned to see Troy coming in with a crate of fresh purple begonias. "You can go, I'll man the fort."

"It's okay, Troy, I completely forgot that Sam had a car today. He was already at the school," Mary reassured him and Troy relaxed immediately.

"You are so lucky," Troy smiled in relief at her, "You've got the sweetest kids. I hope Belinda and I will be as lucky as you and Dwight."

Mary smiled in pleasure at the compliment. As Troy put down the crate, he grabbed a stool and sat down, wiping his forehead. "It's been crazy here today! I'd forget my own name if Ricardo wasn't shouting it at me for the past hour."

"That bad?" Mary asked and Troy just rolled his eyes. "Well, the sooner we can get this done, the sooner I can go home."

"Let me grab the other crates, I got everything except for the foxgloves, and Ricardo was able to find those."

And with a smile and a lighter heart, Mary got back to work.

-?-

Mary pulled into her driveway, seeing the now familiar Corolla on the curb. She got out of the car and grabbed the bag of groceries from the trunk. She didn't get much, just a few ingredients to make a salad to accompany the pork chops.

Before she shut the trunk the front door opened and Sam appeared, shouting back over his shoulder, "Mom's home!" before striding out to meet her. After kissing her by way of greeting, he took the groceries from her, which she relinquished gratefully.

Feeling exhausted after her long day, Mary braced herself for cooking dinner. Sam, bless him, had many talents but cooking wasn't one of them. At least the chops and salad should be easy. But, as soon as she walked in the front door, a wonderful aroma greeted her.

She turned to her eldest. "Sam?" Sam just smiled and walked into the kitchen as she suddenly had to deal with an energetic eight year-old and a hyper six year-old.

"Mom! Guess what! Blaine is here and he let me make dessert!"

"No! WE made dessert!"

"You just mixed the bowl!"

"Did not! I also--"

Mary intervened before it escalated into one of their usual fights. "Well, I'm sure it's going to taste good. Why don't you two clean up and help Sam set the table, okay?"

Twin cries of "Yes Mom!" filled the house as they ran to the bathroom down the shook her head and walked into the kitchen. Inside she found Blaine stirring a pot, the chops laid out ready to be cooked, some bread cooling under a cloth and Sam at the counter emptying the grocery bags.

"What's all this?"

Blaine turned around and smiled at her a little nervously. "Well Mrs Evans...sorry,  _Mary_ , Sam mentioned that you had a killer day today so we figured you might be too tired to actually cook. Sam said you banned him from operating anything more complicated than a microwave--"

"Hey! That's not what I said!" Sam interrupted with an indignant expression but Blaine went on as if Sam hadn't said anything at all.

"So I thought maybe I could help out? It's the least I could do after letting me eat here so often."

Mary smiled at the curly-haired boy, barely resisting the urge to wrap him in a bear hug. "Oh Blaine, if that soup tastes even half as good as it smells, I may lock you in here and never let you go."

Blaine blushed and Mary came forward to see what he was making. She saw the thick creamy soup and gratefully received the wooden spoon that Blaine handed her. She tasted it and smiled in surprise. "Is this potato?"

"Potato and ham. And it's good cold, too, so if there are any leftovers you don't even have to heat it."

"This is excellent, Blaine, thank you. Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to cooking tonight."

"It was Sam's idea, Mrs...Mary."

She patted him on the cheek. "You'll get there," she told him with a laugh, referring to his inability to call her or her husband by their given names.

Mary turned to her son, who was grinning as he carried some vegetables to the sink to be washed.

"The table is already set, Mom, why don't you grab a seat? Take a load off. We'll have the salad ready in no time. The chops are ready, all we're waiting for is for Dad to text us that he's on his way and we'll get that done in a jiffy."

"Careful, Son," Mary teased as she sat on one of the tools, "I can get used to this."

Instead of witty rejoinder, Sam surprised her by coming over and kissing her on the cheek. "Well you deserve it. What do you say we kidnap Blaine so we can have him cook every night?"

"Let's see what your father thinks," she said with a wink at Blaine who just rolled his eyes at Sam.

"Awesome! Then he's as good as ours!" Sam exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air and making his way back to the sink to continue washing the vegetables.

"The kids mentioned dessert?"

Blaine grinned a little bashfully. "It's an eclair cake. Found the recipe online. It's basically a pudding mix and some graham crackers. No baking needed. Stevie and Stacy wanted to help, so..."

"It sounds delicious," she reassured him. She really wanted Blaine to get comfortable in their house and the fact that he took the initiative made her feel that he was slowly getting there. She got up and helped herself to a glass of wine. After the day she'd had, she really needed one. She smiled sheepishly at Sam when he caught her putting her promised dollar in the Swear Jar. Fortunately, Blaine's back was turned. "Speaking of the two little devils, I better see why they're so quiet."

As she turned to leave, Sam's phone beeped to let them know that Dwight was on his way home. She left the kitchen in Blaine and Sam's capable hands and searched out her two youngest.

-?-

Sam was driving Blaine home, trying to fend off the drowsiness of having a full stomach. He had totally gorged himself over dinner. He promised himself that he'd work it all off in the coming week.

"Um, Sam?"

Sam turned to Blaine surprised to see him looking uncertain. He frowned, then looked back at the road, "Yeah?"

"You don't think," Blaine started and stopped. He took a breath and started again. "You don't think it was presumptuous of me...about cooking dinner tonight?"

"What?" Sam asked, incredulous. "That's crazy talk man! Before you forget  _I_  was the one who suggested we cook dinner."

"Yeah...but your mom just wanted something simple," Blaine insisted. "I was the one who raided your pantry to make the cake and the soup."

Sam stopped and thought for a bit. Spending almost every day with Blaine had given him a better idea about who he was and how he was raised. Blaine was fun and outgoing with his friends but, with people he didn't know, especially with adults, he could be almost painfully formal.

With information that Blaine had let drop, Sam figured that even before he came out to them it didn't sound like he'd had a warm relationship with his parents. Plus, even Sam had heard the stories about Blaine's older brother, Cooper, and how wild he was. Blaine's parents had probably been extra strict with Blaine to keep him from turning out like their eldest.

Sam took a deep breath. He reached over and squeezed Blaine's knee to give him some reassurance.

"Mom was totally grateful that you cooked tonight because she really was exhausted," Sam tried very hard to convey the truth, "and trust me, that pudding mix would have sat in that pantry for a year if you didn't use it. And that eclair cake was a hit! Mom wouldn't have asked for the recipe out of politeness, B. Trust me, you're cool."

Blaine nodded and Sam was glad that he seemed to believe him.

"By the way," he added, unable to keep himself from teasing his friend, "I heard Dad planning to give you Stevie's room while they convert the space above the garage into a loft for you. You are officially an Evans now, we are so not letting you go."

Blaine laughed and turned to face Sam. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

Sam flitted his eyes back off the road to reply, "Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 11! This chapter is a slightly different style to our usual and, again, it's largely written by Loki Firefox. It's quite lengthy at almost 10,000 words and we cover a fair amount of ground. It was fun to write (as always) and I hope you find it fun to read.
> 
> A quick reminder: this is AU fanfiction...and some of our characters are going to appear quite OOC from canon from this point. It's deliberate, and I'm keen for your reactions.
> 
> And now, for a week or so in the life of Blam...buckle up, there's a lot going on for our boys.


	12. Chapter 12

"So..." Sam said with a grin as he and Blaine sauntered down one of McKinley's hallways, slinging his arm across Blaine's shoulders, "Stevie wants to know when you're moving in with us."

Blaine almost tripped, craning his neck to stare at Sam incredulously. "Uh...what? Sam, I'm not moving in. Your parents were joking."

The blond laughed and nodded, giving Blaine a reassuring shake. "Yeah, but Stevie must've been listening in and he doesn't always understand when people are joking or being serious. So I told him I'd ask you."

"Oh, sure, make me the bad guy," Blaine rolled his eyes, stopping at his locker and dialling the combination to his padlock.

Sam leant casually against the space beside him. "You could avoid disappointing him by agreeing to move in."

"You know," Blaine mused with a knowing smirk, sliding his Math textbook out of his locker, "I'm starting to think that  _Stevie_  is a front. He wasn't anywhere near the kitchen when you and your Mom were wise-cracking."

"What are you implying, Anderson? That I'm lying?"

Blaine laughed and slammed his locker shut. "That's exactly what I'm implying, Evans. And can I just point out how disappointed I am that you would use an innocent eight year-old to try and guilt me?"

"I'm shocked!" Sam protested. "Shocked and, um,  _applied_  that you could accuse me of doing something like that."

The corners of Blaine's lips twitched. "Appalled," he corrected. "Shocked and appalled."

"Whatever," Sam waved it off dismissively. "Either way, would I really do something so--"

"Yes," the shorter boy cut him off, "because you want someone to sit through Avatar with you without complaining that it's the billionth time."

The blond frowned and pouted. "Not  _just_  Avatar..."

The bell rang signalling the five minute warning to get to class, and the boys prepared to part ways. "You want me to hold your hand, too?" Blaine teased.

Sam snorted. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he said, giving his friend one last fist bump before moving on to class in the opposite direction.

-?-

"Blaine!" Will Schuester called out.

Blaine swallowed his sigh and pasted on a friendlier expression. He told himself for the nth time that the New Directions director couldn't be that bad if Sam liked him. He still wasn't convinced, but since Schuester left the direction of the musical to Artie, Ms P and Coach Beiste so he could focus on preparing for Regionals, Blaine figured that he hadn't really had a chance to get to know him. Blaine felt he really should give him a break. Even if he was a little creepy.

Will Schuester smiled when he saw the teen stop and turn around with an open and welcome expression on his face. He told himself that he was just imagining things, thinking that Blaine didn't like him. That was silly of course; Will was one of the more popular teachers in McKinley. The kids all thought he was cool, after all they called him "Mr Schue".

"So Blaine, I came by the auditorium yesterday and saw you guys rehearse," Will said as he put his hand on Blaine's arm. He squeezed as he said, "Looking  _good_  there, Blaine! You guys were really moving!"

"Um, thanks Mr Schuester," Blaine replied trying to resist the urge to throw the teacher's hand off.

Blaine regretted that he didn't when Schuester put both his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. Blaine wished he could back up as Schuester leaned in and Blaine felt his personal space being violated.

"I wish you'd reconsider joining New Directions, Blaine," Will said, hoping he could convince the teen. As talented as his kids were, even he had to admit that no one but Rachel--and maybe Santana--was as well-rounded as he was and had the charisma to boot. He was watching Blaine during rehearsals and couldn't take his eyes off the kid; he had incredible stage presence and, while he wasn't the tallest one on stage, he drew the eye and made even Finn fade into the background. He would do everything in his power to get him in New Directions. Idly, he wondered if Sandy Ryerson still sold weed...

"I think you would find a lot of  _kindred_  spirits there," Will continued with the hard sell, struggling to make glee as enticing as possible, "we would welcome you with open arms and it's a safe place to be yourself and to do what makes  _you_  happy. To do what you want with people who would do it with you."

Blaine started to wonder if Schuester was trying to tell him something else but that thought did  _not_  bear thinking about. He shut it down as quickly as possible and started to nod his head, anything to end this conversation. "I'll think about it Mr Schuester."

Will squeezed Blaine's shoulders in relief. "Thanks, Blaine," and to seal the deal, because he wanted to make Blaine feel like he was part of the family, he let go of Blaine's shoulder but placed his right hand behind Blaine's neck and squeezed there gently. "You won't regret it."

With a light heart Will Schuester went on his way, oblivious to the fact that he was leaving a quietly shuddering Blaine Anderson behind him.

-?-

"So," Blaine said later that evening when all three boys were hanging out in their Fortress of Solitude, sharing a platter of snack foods (including carrot sticks and celery for the sake of Sam's vanity) and playing some board games that Sam and Mike brought from their houses: by common consent it was decided that the Batcave was for work while the Fortress was for play, "I'm thinking of joining New Directions."

Sam, previously entertaining himself by stealing every snack Mike attempted to pick up, dropped the piece of celery he was holding and stared at his curly-haired friend. "Really?" He asked, trying not to sound as enthused and hopeful as he felt.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm enjoying working on the musical with everyone, and the cast is mostly glee club members anyway..."

"Well, I think it'd be pretty cool," Sam said, still aiming for nonchalance. "Everyone would be psyched. Mr Schue especially."

"Yeah...about that," the former Warbler bit his lip and looked at his friends. "What's, uh, what's his deal, exactly?"

Mike raised his eyebrows at Blaine in question then, using Sam's distraction as an opportunity to scoop up a handful of potato chips and stuff them into his mouth, smirked at the blond's scandalised expression once he'd noticed.

"I mean...he's kind of, I don't know... _creepy_ ," Blaine supplied.

"Creepy?" Sam echoed, pushing the plate out of Mike's reach. "What? How?"

"Never mind," Blaine said, trying to brush it off. "Forget I said anything."

Mike pursed his lips encouraging Blaine to talk more while attempting to sneak towards the food.

"I just..." Blaine sighed. "He comes off a bit...strange."

"I guess he can be kind of intense," the blond nodded, taking pity on his Asian friend and putting the tray back in front of him. He waited until Mike reached for a carrot stick and pulled the plate away again with a laugh.

Blaine rolled his eyes good-naturedly, taking the plate away moments before Mike lost patience and launched himself at the blond, wrestling him to the ground. Blaine laughed at their antics and shook his head, forgetting all about Will Schuester's creepiness. The other two boys looked up at the sound and then shared a glance that had Blaine backing away towards the door of his apartment.

Then Sam cried, "Get him!" so Blaine opened the door and raced out onto the roof, uncaring of the chill in the air, their combined laughter echoing across the expanse of space. Blaine still had the plate of food, and balancing it took skill and concentration, which also slowed him down a little. Not to mention the fact that he was still mindful of his ankle.

The other two boys were born athletes, tall and trained in running, their strides eclipsing Blaine's own, and soon enough the short brunette found himself well and truly caught, the plate snatched from his grasp by long, nimble fingers while a pair of strong, muscular arms hooked around his midsection and pulled him flush against an equally muscular torso. He was glad for the cold of the roof and the exertion of running, because both things would easily explain the flush on his cheeks that really had nothing to do with either.

While he was distracted by the feeling of Sam's abdomen against his back, Sam wrestled him to the ground, pinning him down on the cold concrete surface with a wide smile. Blaine threw his head back and laughed (because his initial instinct to kiss the expression off his friend's face would not be appreciated, he was sure).

"Okay," Blaine said, still beaming, doing his best to be unaffected by the position he was in (Will Schuester without clothing was the thought that cooled him off the best, apparently). "You win! You win! Now get  _off_  me," he pleaded, "it's  _freezing_  out here."

Sam sat back on his haunches reluctantly. "You're the one who ran out here," he shrugged. "Could have stayed in the cozy warmth of your apartment, but  _no_..."

Mike was watching their interaction with barely concealed amusement as he munched down on a carrot stick. He looked around the relatively flat roof. Blaine's apartment was small and, right now, with the plunging temperatures, all three boys bunched up inside kept it nice and toasty, but it would be an oven when the weather broke. Out here though...with a couch rescued from the dump, a couple of chairs...it had promise. Mike was pulled from his thoughts when Blaine squealed kind of girlishly.

Sam was still pinning Blaine to the ground and looked down at his friend with an evil grin on his face. "Why, Blaine Anderson, are you telling me that you are  _ticklish_?"

"Sam, please, I'm begging you," Blaine looked up at the blond with wide eyes, struggling to get out from under him. (And  _that_ was a thought he'd never thought he'd have.)

"Well, I dunno," Sam had a thoughtful look on his face, "I mean you did run out here knowing full well you should be taking it easy on that ankle," Sam said absently while lightly poking Blaine's side, Blaine jerking every time Sam made contact.

"Sam! I'm sorry!" Blaine pleaded between gasps and giggles as Sam targeted each ticklish spot with eerie accuracy. "I promise I'll be more careful! Please stop!"

Sam stopped and looked down on his friend, whose face was flushed, cheeks rosy and his eyes bright with tears from laughing so hard, a wide grin on his expressive mouth. For a minute, Sam's brain shut down and the strangest urge came over him and, without thinking, he dipped his face forward. Blaine's sharp inhalation brought him back to his senses. He was so close to Blaine that their noses were almost touching. Sam quickly rallied and said, "I don't believe you."

Blaine's eyes widened but before he could say anything, Sam mercilessly attacked him. Blaine's laughter echoed through the rooftop peppered with Sam's chuckles. In his struggles, Blaine got an arm free and with devilish glee reached for Sam's ribs for a counter-attack but, to his dismay, Sam didn't react.

Sam laughed down at Blaine, "I should warn you, I'm not ticklish. At all."

Blaine pouted. "No fair!" And, while Sam continued to laugh like a super villain, he muttered, "Mutant."

Sam smiled victoriously and said, "Do you swear on the sanctity of the Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude that you will take better care of your ankle?"

Blaine paused and looked defiant but when Sam raised his finger he immediately broke into a smile and exclaimed with a laugh, "Yes, I swear."

Sam searched his eyes and, seemingly satisfied with the answer, stood up. Blaine immediately missed the weight on him, but accepted Sam's hand and pulled himselfto his feet. While he was brushing himself off he smirked, hearing Sam exclaim, "Mike! I can't believe you finished  _all_  the doritos!"

Mike shrugged. "You got to tickle Blaine, I got the doritos. Fair exchange. Do you think we can get a couch up here?"

Successfully distracted, the three friends listened to Mike's idea and started to plan Operation: Rooftop Mancave.

-?-

Sam was running late. It was going to be Blaine's first day as a member of New Directions and he really wanted to be there to show support for his best friend. This was important because his other best friend, Mike, was preparing with the other members of the debate team. Sam wondered if maybe Blaine might be interested in joining that group as well? Though the other guy did seem to have a lot on his plate as it was...

Either way, Sam had been held back in History class, but at least this time it was for a good reason. Mrs Hagberg had told him that he'd managed to raise his grade average to a B-minus. A  _B-minus_! He'd been barely holding a C-minus grade and in less than two months of tutoring, Blaine had helped him out of academic probation! It was a good thing Blaine hadn't been there because Sam was so elated he could have kissed him! As it was, he'd almost laid a wet one on Mrs Hagberg herself!

He got to choir room just as Mr Schue started his spiel, seeing that Blaine was seated between Rachel and Sugar. Blaine smiled apologetically at him. Sam was pretty good at reading Blaine's expressions and he could tell that he'd attempted saving Sam a seat but nothing man-made could withstand Rachel Berry or Sugar Motta when they wanted something. So Sam shrugged good-naturedly and sat on the only other seat available, the left corner seat at the back beside Rory.

"Glad you could join us, Sam," Mr Schue said with a smile to show he was only joking.

"Well, Mr Schue, I'm late 'cos Mrs Hagberg held me back to talk to me about my grades," Sam said looking defeated.

"Oh  _Sam_..." Mr Schue started, and Sam could tell he thought that Sam may have flunked out of class and was probably going to be kicked off the football team. Everyone else had similar expressions except Blaine, who looked puzzled. Then his expression cleared and he rolled his eyes, having cottoned-on to what Sam was doing.

"I brought my grades up to a B-minus," Sam said breaking into a huge grin. "I'm officially out of academic probation!"

His friends cheered and he was suddenly surrounded by hugs and pats on the back. Mercedes somehow found a way to him and hugged him fiercely, whispering, "I knew you could do it."

"Good job, Sam," Mr Schue said with a proud smile.

"Well Mr Schue, I couldn't do it without help," Sam admitted, wanting to make sure that Blaine received the credit he was due. "Blaine tutored me both in History and English and helped me sometimes even better than the specialist I was seeing regularly. I couldn't have done this without him, so thanks, dude."

"Well done, Sam  _and_  Blaine," Kurt congratulated with a flourish of applause, Rachel, Sugar and several of the others joining in. However, Sam did notice that Finn seemed put out and even Mercedes just sat down.

"I  _knew_  you'd be a good fit here, Blaine," Mr Schue said to Blaine and Sam noticed how tense Blaine appeared to get when Mr Schue put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. While Sam thought about that, Mr Schue continued.

"And that's a good segue to my next bit of news," Mr Schue with a toothy grin. "As he already proved that he takes care of his teammates, let us welcome the newest member of New Directions, Blaine Anderson!"

The applause this time was just as loud and raucous with Sugar and Unique wolf-whistling and cat-calling. Then Finn's voice cut through the cheers and everyone fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry, but shouldn't he audition first?" Finn asked. "I mean everyone else here has."

Sam was immediately incensed but Rachel was even quicker on the draw and, like lightning, quickly turned to face Finn with an incredulous look on her face. "Are you serious, Finn?" Her voice never sounded so acerbic.

"He's lead in our school musical," she started counting off on her fingers, "he was the lead soloist when the Warblers made it to Nationals last year when he was a  _Sophomo--_ "

"Which they lost," Mercedes said interrupting Rachel's rant. Sam was momentarily struck silent with surprise that Mercedes would support Finn in this.

"So did twenty-three other show choirs," Kurt replied. "Including  _us_  year before last _;_ does that mean that last year we sucked?"

"Guys, I don't think--" Mr Schue began half-heartedly, already knowing that, despite his best intentions, he wouldn't get a word in edgewise until the group hashed this out or if he used his angry voice. And he didn't like resorting to that, because the kids might not like him if he used it too frequently. After all, he wasn't Sue.

"Everyone has to audition," Finn said with a dogged determination.

"Even though we basically don't turn anyone down," Artie replied back just as strongly.

"I would think a standing ovation is proof positive that Blaine can sing!" Rachel bit back and Finn almost recoiled at her vehemence.

"If it means that much to you guys, I can always audition," Blaine said with a calm voice that nevertheless got everyone's attention.

He got up and walked to the band who were patiently standing in the room by their instruments. He spoke to them quietly and everyone's interest was piqued, wondering which song Blaine would sing. Three members of the band stepped forward, one had a guitar, another had a mandolin and the third had a cello. Blaine picked up a violin and, with a half-smile at Sam, sang.

" _Flow gently sweet Afton, among thy green braes,_ " sang Blaine. The sweet, gentle melody was so unexpected that it quieted the room more quickly and more efficiently than a loud bang could have done.

Sam smiled when Blaine lifted the violin, realising that this was his chance to finally hear Blaine play. Blaine closed his eyes and smoothly joined the band.

Everyone had heard Blaine sing before, of course, but this was altogether different, completely unlike when he sang with the Warblers or as Tony.  _That_  was a performance, where Blaine played to an audience. Here, it seemed almost personal, intimate, like Blaine was singing to each of them alone. Too soon, the song reached its end. As the last note hung in the air, Blaine turned to his fellow musicians and gave them a grateful bow and they bowed back. When he turned to face the glee kids, he was met with silence.

Blaine knew he'd sounded good and was puzzled at the lack of reaction until Rachel literally shook herself like she was snapping out of a trance. She leapt up from her seat and strode over to Blaine.

"That was  _beautiful_!" she exclaimed, taking his hand, "and we already know how well matched we are. I have several duets I think we both will do well--"

As if breaking a spell, Rachel's voice woke everyone and Kurt immediately interrupted his friend. "Now wait just one minute, Miss Berry, I  _literally_  saw him first. If Blaine is going to have a duet with anyone, it will be with me!"

"Kurt, be reasonable, you all heard us sing  _Tonight_ , our voices are perfectly suited--"

"Rachel," Unique joined in, "I remember when you didn't even  _want_  him in glee. He was supposed to be a spy, remember?"

"Blaine can you rap?" interrupted Artie.

"D'yer nu any more ballads, den?" piped in Rory in his thick accent, "cos thar's a few oi want ter sin' but naw wan 'ere wants ter sin' dem wi' me."

"What did he say?" whispered Brittany and Sugar just shrugged.

Sam stood back and watched as Blaine was officially welcomed by the group, with the exception of Santana--who was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, glaring at him--Finn, standing but looking at him sourly, and Mercedes texting on her phone, seemingly bored. Sam frowned at that; he'd never known Mercedes to be so rude to a new recruit before. He wondered if maybe she was just having an off-day.

When Mr Schue eventually managed to contain the rabble and send people back to their seats, Sam caught Blaine's eye and mouthed, "Welcome."

-?-

A few days later in the Batcave, Blaine was wrapping up a tutoring session with Sam. Mike had already left, leaving the two alone.

"So," Sam said, sidling up alongside Blaine after their tutoring session, "tomorrow's Thanksgiving."

Blaine stopped and sighed. He was afraid of this happening. "Sam, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but--"

"If you say no, my Mom is still gonna make me drive over to your place and carry you down to the car, 'cuff you to the damn thing if I have to, and then take you all the way back home with me." He schooled his features into something reminiscent of a pleading puppy. "Save me the drama, dude. Just say you'll let me pick you up."

While Blaine wanted to snark that Sam had him at the mention of handcuffs, he gave politely declining the invitation one last shot. "I don't want to be an intruder on your family day."

"Dude, my family is together every day," Sam told him. "Besides, Mike and his mom are coming over. It's a thing we started last year. You wouldn't be intruding. My parents expect you there no matter what, so..." He shrugged. "I'm just giving you warning."

Truthfully, the mention of Mike being there set Blaine at ease with the idea, making it feel less like charity and him feel less of an outsider. "Okay," he acquiesced. "What should I bring?"

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Uh, nothing? B, Mom would kill me if she thought I told you to bring anything."

Blaine rolled his eyes. He'd bring pie. Everyone loved pie, right?

-?-

"Dude," Sam groaned when Blaine opened the door at their scheduled pick up time, a pumpkin pie in his hand. "What did I say about bringing things?"

"I was raised to never turn up to a function that I've been invited to empty-handed," Blaine informed him, "and because you weren't helpful, I went with pie."

The blond just shook his head. "Anyone ever told you that you're a stubborn ass, B?"

"Only you," Blaine replied with a shrug. "And Kurt. But then he usually follows that by attempting to grope my stubborn ass, so I'm not sure I can take him all that seriously."

Sam laughed. "But you take me seriously? Good to know where I stand, Anderson."

"Oh, it's Anderson now is it? I see how it is. Maybe I won't bring pie. Maybe I won't accept the invitation at all." Blaine folded his arms across his chest, which was quite the feat considering he was still holding the item that had sparked the banter.

Sam moved forward and took the dessert from him, set it on the bench, then swiftly hoisted Blaine over his shoulder, ignorant of the shorter boy's yelp of surprise and subsequent demands to be let down. "I'm pretty sure I warned you, man," he laughed. "You're coming to Thanksgiving either way."

"I'm pretty sure your warning also contained the promise of handcuffs," Blaine flirted uncharacteristically, then winced, glad that Sam couldn't see his face. He was spending far too much time with Kurt! Because it was fine to flirt with the effeminate boy, completely harmless, but flirting with the athletic adonis was like playing with fire.

Sam was oblivious to Blaine's sudden dilemma, grabbing the pie with the arm not currently holding another guy down over his shoulder and carefully navigating his way out the door. "If you're a good boy," he teased right back like it was second nature, not at all awkward flirting with his gay male friend (hell, he'd spent a lot of time with Kurt and Unique, too), "we'll talk bondage. For now? Can you lock the door? My hands are kind of full."

Blaine's face was bright pink and he reached out and flipped the lock, pulling the door shut. When Sam eventually set him back on the ground--after two flights of stairs--he prayed the blond would attribute the blush to being suspended almost upside down.

"You okay, dude?" Sam asked as Blaine took a moment to pass the vertigo, bending over with his hands on his knees and breathing deeply.

Blaine righted himself and glared across at his friend. "Are you  _crazy_?" He eventually asked, waving a hand in the direction they'd just come from. "What the  _hell_ , Sam? You could have dropped me!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I had you, B. Relax. I'd have dropped the pie first, I promise. But look," he held up the dessert, "it's still in one piece, too."

"I'm not exactly a lightweight," Blaine persisted, folding his arms. "And you just put me over your shoulder and carried me down  _two_  flights of stairs  _one-_ handed. That was just reckless." He tried not to think about how surprisingly strong that meant Sam was, especially because he hadn't even blinked under Blaine's weight. He knew the blond had abs of steel but he hadn't expected that.

And, oh God, now he was thinking of Sam's abs.

_Bad Blaine. Focus._

The blond was oblivious to his friend's train of thought. "I had you, B. You were perfectly safe. Yeah, you're heavier than I expected, but you're solid muscle under those hipster clothes, so I shouldn't have been surprised. And if I thought for one second that I couldn't manage it, I wouldn't have risked it." He reached out and messed with Blaine's gelled curls. "You worry too much."

-?-

"Looks like you're walking pretty well now," Sam's dad observed after giving Blaine a strong hug by way of greeting, allowing the boy to wave at the rest of the room in general before he drew him into conversation.

Blaine nodded, jutting out his foot and rolling his ankle for emphasis. "Yeah," he agreed, "about time, too. Mike's choreography is complicated enough without having to try and explain why Tony's hobbling around instead of taking centre stage. Not to mention lacrosse training."

Sam narrowed his gaze at Blaine. "You're not going to do anything too strenuous," he told his curly-haired friend. "It'll still be tender. Too much too soon and Tony will probably need to be in a cast or on crutches. Try sneaking that past an audience."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes  _Mom_."

"You can call me whatever the he--um,  _heck_  you want," Sam shrugged, quickly glancing at his father for the near swear word then back at Blaine, "as long as you're careful on that ankle."

"Does that mean you won't let him play ball later?" Stevie asked from his position sprawled across the living room couch, his feet propped up in Mike's lap like it was second nature, "'Cause I wanted Blaine on my team."

"Hey," Mike, usually stoic, feigned insult and nudged the little boy. He wasn't a big talker, everyone knew that, but around the two smaller Evans kids he made an effort to be more communicative as they were too young to understand his nuances. "I thought I was always your first pick?"

Stevie rolled his eyes. "Duh, Mike. But Blaine's gonna be on my team, too." He frowned. "Unless Sam won't let him play."

"If Blaine promises to be careful, he can play." Sam sighed, failing to cover his amusement as the three other boys-- _and_  his father--cheered at the decision.

"So if Blaine's ankle is okay now," Stevie continued, nose crinkled in thought, "does that mean we gotta give his car back? 'Cause it's been really good borrowing it."

"Stevie..." Dwight sighed, the mood in the room drooping at the acknowledgment of the Evans family's situation.

"What?" the younger blond asked. "What'd I say?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Actually," he said, "I've been thinking about this." And he had. The better his ankle had gotten, the sadder he'd felt at the thought of his arrangement with Sam coming to an end, and that was mostly for selfish reasons as he enjoyed spending time alone with the blond boy more than he probably should. But he'd also noticed how useful the vehicle was to the Evans family, alleviating stress from Mary and Dwight who hadn't had to try and work out work schedules around driving their two youngest because Sam could suddenly do it, and for Sam who no longer had to take the bus to school or work. So he took a deep breath and looked Sam directly in the eye. "I want you to keep using the car."

Sam and his father broke into protest in unison, their denials loud and unyielding. But Blaine wasn't having any of it.

Holding up his hands, he gestured for them to stop speaking. "Just hear me out, okay? I'm not  _giving_  you my car. I'm just saying that this arrangement is working really well at the moment so we don't need to change it. I mean, you use it way more than I do: I only need it to get to and from school because I can walk to work easily enough, and if you promise to keep picking me up for school and dropping me off afterwards, then I don't see why we can't keep doing what we've been doing." He shrugged. "When I graduate I'll either take it back or sell it to you or something."

Sam's brow was still furrowed. This felt an awful lot like charity to him. "I can't accept your car, Blaine."

"You're not  _accepting_ anything," Blaine reiterated. "It's still mine, and I can still do with it what I want. And I  _want_ for you to keep using it in exchange for being my personal chauffeur." When Sam's expression still failed to change, Blaine sighed. "What would make you feel better about this? You're already paying for gas...," and Blaine ignored Sam's muttered "when you let me", "...did you want to pay a little towards insurance? Does that sound fair?"

Sam mulled this over, looking to his Dad for approval. Because, yeah, if he was paying a little towards it, he wouldn't feel as guilty about accepting Blaine's gesture. Dwight tilted his head, nodding his agreement, and Sam turned back to Blaine, smile blooming across his face. "Yeah," he admitted, "that sounds like a pretty good deal to me." He drew the shorter boy into a quick bro-hug. "But if you change your mind and want it back just say the word, dude."

Blaine nodded, even though he knew that he wouldn't be rescinding the offer.

"This is real kind of you, Blaine." Dwight said, while Stevie pestered Mike about what was going on ("So we  _don't_  gotta give the car back yet? I'm confused!"). He pulled Blaine in for a hug of his own. "I really appreciate it. Mary's gonna flip her lid. You're a good kid. Sam's real lucky to have a friend like you."

Blaine blushed a little under the praise, wondering if Dwight Evans would feel the same if he realised that Blaine was offering more out of a selfish desire to spend time with Sam than to actually help the family out. "Funny," he replied, casting a fleeting glance back at Sam, "I would say it's the other way around."

-?-

Blaine suddenly found himself tangled up with something hard and blond and landed on the ground with an explosive "oof". He looked up to see a grinning Sam straddling him.

"Sam! First, this is  _touch_  football,  _touch_! And secondly," Blaine started to complain but couldn't maintain his serious tone in the face of such glee and broke into a smile, "I didn't even have the ball you dweeb!"

"Yeah well, you were talking to Mike, not playing. We came out here to play Anderson."

"If I didn't know any better," Blaine snarked, feeling particularly bold, "I'd say you were just looking for an excuse to tackle me."

"Uh huh, sure," Sam rolled his eyes, but his tone remained light and teasing. "Maybe you need to learn some more defensive moves, then? You know, to defend your virtue from me and all that." (As it was, Sam had already made a wise-crack about grabbing balls before they'd started playing, and Dwight had cuffed him upside the head, reminding him that there were children present. He was fined a dollar for the Swear Jar and everything.)

Blaine scoffed, "I don't know which part of that to be most offended by; the fact that you think that I can't defend myself, or the fact that you just painted me as some blushing virgin."

Sam laughed and got up, holding out his hand so that Blaine could pull himself to his feet. "Chill, dude, I was only teasing. But..." He looked contemplative, "you box, right?"

Blaine arched his eyebrow, not entirely certain of this new line of questioning. "Yeah. You know that, Sam."

"Well, Dad's just lined up boxing classes for me with a friend of his at the gym," he shrugged, "Benson'd be cool if you wanted to come with. I mean, I know you can totally defend yourself, but the bag at school's not gonna cut it for training forever, right? And your ankle's getting better, so..."

Blaine thought it over; it had been a long time since he'd had a proper sparring partner...and it would be cool to do something else outside of school with Sam that didn't involve tutoring, the mall, or his boring, cramped apartment. "That sounds great," he eventually replied, grinning as the blond's face lit up with enthusiasm. Recalling their earlier words, he smirked. "Plus, it's as good an excuse as any to kick your ass for teasing me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow. So many amazing reviews. Loki and I are so thrilled that everyone is really getting in to this fic.
> 
> A point I feel I should cover before we continue:
> 
> Re: Finn/Mercedes...A lot of people are disappointed that these two have become our antagonists. Honestly, I'm personally not a fan of either character and they fit our needs so well. When he's not being a bumbling fool, I've always seen Finn as selfish and whiny. And Mercedes was kinda cool in Season One...then SHE became super selfish and whiny and never really broke out of that characterisation, as far as I could see. So they fit our needs nicely. Yes, we've made them even worse than they are in canon, but it's FanFic and AU at that. I want to be clear, though, I don't feel that we're pointlessly character bashing, just putting emphasis on traits that already existed in canon for our plot purposes.
> 
> Other than that, most people seem to be enjoying where we're going with this story. This chapter was so fun to write...and I'm on such a high that I might do some shout outs to our oh-so-loyal reviewers! (I know, who is this crazy woman who has taken over my body and decided to do shout outs?)
> 
> \---
> 
> Song used was 'Sweet Afton' by Nickel Creek


	13. Chapter 13

Sam was wandering down the corridor, lost in thought, when a pair of perfectly manicured hands snagged his arm and yanked him unceremoniously into a janitor's closet. He fumbled for the light switch and sighed with relief when the space was illuminated, only to frown when he saw his captor.

"Santa- _oomph_!"

There were cherry red lips on his, matching nails digging into his shoulders, pushing down and forcing him to take a seat on an upturned bucket. Soon after, his lap was full of cheerleader.

He brought his hands up to her shoulders and pushed gently, trying to pry her lips from his. "Santana!" He managed, once his lips were freed. "What the  _hell_ are you doing?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, patting his cheek in condescension. "What does it  _feel_ like I'm doing, Trouty Mouth?" She rolled her hips for emphasis. "I'm showin' my man a good time."

"I'm not your- _ooomph_!"

The lips were back.

Sam pushed her away again. "Seriously, stop it. And get off me."

"Why are you fighting this, Frogger?" The Latina asked, trying for seductive this time as she ran fingers lightly over his biceps. "I'm hot, you're hot...what's the problem?"

"We broke up for a reason," he reminded her, more freaked out than turned on. "And I'm not interested in getting back together. At all."

"Are you serious?" Santana asked, incredulous. "I'm, like, the hottest chick in this place."

"I'm not denying that, but--"

"But what? Are you with someone else?" Her eyes narrowed. " _Kitty_? Don't think I haven't seen her throwing her skanky self at you whenever she can."

His eyes widened as the realisation struck him. Santana was only doing this because she was jealous! The second she thought someone else was interested in him, she decided to stake her claim. But the thing was, she'd dumped him. She had no claim to stake. And he was glad to be rid of her special brand of loco. "I'm not with Kitty, Santana, or any other girl right now." He moved his hands to her hips and slid her back off his lap. "So you can pull in your claws and back off. I'm not interested."

She stared at him, bewildered that he was turning her down.  _Nobody_ turned her down. Like,  _ever_. Insulted and ego bruised, she huffed, "Careful Sammy boy," she told him, "you know I don't take no for an answer. I always gets what I wants."

He wasn't fazed. "Would you  _stop_  talking like you're from the ghetto? Your dad's a doctor, for crying out loud."

"Listen up, Lips," Santana snapped back, all semblance of patience lost. "Everyone knows you're my property. So we were on a break, so what? You don't get to choose here, and it'll be easier for everyone if you just got with the program. And you do  _not_ get to tell me how to talk."

She turned and pulled the door open with force, casting one last glare over her shoulder at him. "The easy way or the hard way, Sam, it's totally your call."

Sam followed her out with a sigh, ignoring the looks and the whispers from the others in the hall. He bit back the urge to smack the wall in frustration. Surely there had to be some way to get the crazy Latina off his case once and for all? He racked his brain but came up empty.

Maybe, he mused, she'd eventually get bored and set her sights on someone else?

That seemed just about as ridiculous as his plan to turn invisible...

He shook his head. "I'm so screwed," he muttered to himself, finally reaching his classroom. He glanced at the clock, which told him he was five minutes late. "Damn it, Santana."

-?-

When Blaine had made that difficult assist to Lipoff and helped them win the game, Blaine had thought for a brief moment that the team had started to accept him as one of them. Even if that were true, then Lipoff being kicked off the team had stopped that. It didn't matter that it was their teasing that had really pissed Lipoff off, or that Lipoff had started the whole thing with Blaine in the first place. All they had seen was that their friend was kicked off the team and Beiste's new golden boy got a slap on the wrist.

During the first practice after that game, though, the team did start to actually acknowledge Blaine's presence on the field: they passed the ball to him or got into position to receive the ball from him. Blaine assumed that most of that was based on fear of being kicked off the team for not, well, playing as a team but there were a few, most notably Rutherford and, surprisingly, Puckerman who had started to treat him as a full member of the team, at least on the field.

But it was a different story in the locker room. While they didn't start any of the physical stuff, Blaine could still feel the suspicious stares and hear the uncomfortable silence whenever he was around. A month ago, Blaine would have quit as he really didn't need the aggravation. But now he had Sam's voice in his head telling him that he deserved to be there as much as anyone.

He remembered one particular day, after Lipoff got kicked out of the team and the stares were particularly intense and the silence pretty heavy, Blaine's stubborn streak was ignited so he'd decided to hell with them and walked into the showers without waiting for the space to empty, although he had made sure his things were safely stowed away. Blaine felt heartened when Rutherford, though he didn't speak to Blaine, at least acknowledged his presence and hadn't moved away from Blaine in the communal shower. He'd considered that a win.

As the week went on, the stares dropped for the most part and people didn't suddenly shut up if he happened to walk by. However, while he was recognized on the field, he was still ignored off it. Except for Rutherford, no one would shower near him and, while most of the pranks stopped, Blaine took no chances and gave them little opportunity to be tempted to start again.

Blaine thought that he would settle for being ignored, but the truth was it made him feel heavy inside. These were his teammates. He worked his ass off to be good for them, helping them win and their lack of appreciation really hurt him, even though he didn't want it to. It was a constant struggle to psych himself to play at his best because his team certainly didn't inspire him to, but it also helped having Sam, and sometimes even Mike, Rachel, Unique and Kurt watching him practice. He decided that he would do well for  _them_ _;_  give  _them_ something to cheer about.

Blaine could have carried on this way but Lipoff, having been kicked off the team, now had nothing holding him back. That said, though, he hadn't resorted to anything worse than the occasional shoulder checks in the hallways whenever he caught Blaine off-guard and alone.

While Blaine being on a winning team was saved from any more slushies from the other jocks, that wasn't stopping Lipoff. Blaine had at least been successfully avoiding him if he saw him carrying one. However, as the physical bullying tapered off, the name-calling had gotten worse. Lipoff didn't say anything when Mike or Sam were around, but Blaine hardly had classes with Sam and, because of his own punishing schedule, Mike and Blaine really didn't spend too much time together outside of class and the Batcave, so Lipoff had plenty of opportunities to harass him (though he'd gotten smart about it, and only did so when there were no other witnesses). His posse had shrunk to two, Blaine's teammate Josh Coleman and Bobby Surette, who was on the football team, but they were the worst offenders.

Their taunts had gotten even more vicious since Lipoff was kicked off. Funnily enough, while they tried not to say anything if Sam or Mike or even when Puck was around, they didn't hold back in front of the faculty (aside from Coach Beiste) and Blaine was shocked and angered to see the teachers, even Mr Schuester, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to it.

Blaine just had to grin and bear it. "One year, hold out for just one year," became his mantra, although that year stretched out in front of him like a tunnel with no real end in sight.

It just wasn't the bullying or the lack of appreciation from his teammates, either. Glee, too, had its share of hostility. Finn's attempts to put him down were more irritating than hurtful, but Santana's quips could be quite painful. He never let it show, but Santana was very good at making her victims feel small. Blaine was no exemption--he just didn't let her see it. The fact that she would do this in front of Mr Schue (and sometimes, shockingly,  _to_  Mr Schue) without the man saying anything more than a firm "Santana" or "Enough, Santana" really bothered him. Fortunately Kurt, Unique and Rachel were quick to defend him (as was Sam if he was around, but Santana, like the jocks, generally waited until Sam was out of the room or otherwise preoccupied) and Kurt could sling rather stinging barbs himself.

Mercedes actually scared him. She hardly acknowledged him at all, excepting a couple of snide remarks she had made about him to other people that he was never sure whether he was meant to overhear or not. She never said anything directly offensive to him, but he could feel her dislike and he wasn't sure why. Sam had considered her one of his friends, so he didn't understand where all this was coming from.

If it weren't for Sam, Blaine didn't think he would have handled this as well as he had. Sam had properly introduced him to Mike, and, though he'd already met Kurt and Unique separately, had helped to cement those friendships, and also the one he'd made with Rachel. They had made his life in McKinley more than just bearable, on some days it was even fun. Sometimes he could even forget that he wasn't betrayed by people he thought were his friends, practically expelled from school and thrown out of the house by his parents.

Blaine grimaced as his ankle felt particularly tender. Coach Beiste had pushed them hard today. There was a critical game coming up and with Lipoff gone they had to scramble just to get back into fighting form.

Blaine was tired. Not just from the practice but from everything. From putting up with the snide comments, having to be constantly on guard, to being shocked at the faculty's apathy, he was just exhausted. He didn't even pretend to be busy, he just sat on the bench and waited for everyone to finish so he could take a shower and go home.

He suddenly felt tears prick the back of his eyes.  _No!_  He refused to give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing him break down. He focused on the locker in front of him, his eyes narrowed but he refused to close them because he just knew that if he did, the tears would come unchecked. With an act of sheer will, he pulled himself together and fought the feelings of despair back down.

He forced himself to think about what was good about his life, not the bad. Sam. Sam was the best thing in his life right then. He made Blaine laugh, he reminded him what a good friend was all about, he welcomed him into his family and his home, he shared his friends with him, and he defended him (even from himself). Sam was enough. There were others, of course: Alex, Mike, Kurt, Rachel... but Sam was more than enough.

Blaine took a deep, if shaky, breath and felt himself calm. He looked around and saw that the locker room was empty. He sighed and put away his things (it didn't hurt to be careful) and walked to the showers. The thought of seeing Sam soon and going home giving him the strength to finish his shower and head back out to get changed.

-?-

Sam frowned as he saw Blaine limping towards him. Blaine  _never_  showed that his ankle bothered him, especially in school. Granted, mostly everyone had gone home already and there was hardly anyone there, but Blaine hated to show weakness just on general principle. For him to limp must mean he was really hurting. Sam had gotten off the hood of the car and was already halfway to Blaine before Blaine had taken a dozen steps from the door.

The lacrosse team had a game at the end of the week and Coach Beiste had been pushing them hard during practice. Lipoff was a douche and a half, but kicking him off the team had a left a hole that wasn't easily filled. Blaine had told Sam that they'd had to alter several plays to accommodate the loss. Lipoff wasn't the fastest or the most accurate player, but he was solid and he had stamina in spades. They'd had to rotate two players to cover his position. It was a mess and this coming game was critical. If they lost this game then that was it, they were out of the running.

Blaine felt the pressure even more keenly. More than just being the odd man out, Lipoff was kicked off the team because of him--well because Lipoff was an asshole, so to be more accurate, Lipoff was kicked out because he was being an asshole to Blaine. So Blaine, of course, felt that he had to prove that he was worth the loss. That meant pushing even harder than he normally pushed himself, and now it showed.

Sam didn't say anything. He also didn't say anything when Blaine leaned against him and let him help carry the weight. Sam was really worried. That Blaine needed assistance without asking or justifying it or anything, it must be bad. Without a word he scooped Blaine up in his arms. He knew from the last time he'd done this that Blaine really hated it. Knowing Blaine better, Sam didn't think it was because the action was rather corny (even though it was), but at how easily Sam could do it, like Blaine was a tiny little thing of small consequence.

Sam normally didn't care about what other people thought of his actions. However, carrying Blaine bridal-style (even though he had done it before) in such an exposed and open place like the school parking lot, despite it being practically empty, was making even him self-conscious. But he powered through it because it was the fastest way to get Blaine to the car, and also because he knew it would rile Blaine up and he disliked seeing Blaine so quiet. He was hoping that this action would get a response from him. An argumentative Blaine was a normal Blaine, and secretly funny--much like a fierce puppy--not that Sam would ever say that out loud.

So when Blaine appeared to say something, Sam brightened but his face fell when Blaine muttered a soft "thank you" instead.

Sam wondered if he should take him to the hospital, but he honestly didn't think Blaine was injured, just exhausted.

In the end, Sam took him home and Blaine didn't say a word when Sam picked him up and carried him up the stairs. Instead, he rested his head on Sam's shoulder and closed his eyes in relief. This only served to heighten Sam's concern.

Blaine had showered in the gym--which was why he was the last one to leave: he'd made sure everyone else had gone home to minimize any "incidents" (although with Lipoff gone those incidents had tapered off rather quickly)--so all Sam had to do was help Blaine change into something more comfortable and get him into bed. After putting several cushions his mom had sent to "brighten up the place" under Blaine's ankle to elevate it, Sam went to the fridge.

"Do you have any leftovers? I can heat that up for dinner," Sam asked as he found a couple of plastic containers. He opened them and saw there was just enough for two. He set them aside for later and grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and walked back to the bed.

"Hey," he said as he sat beside Blaine on the bed, stretching his long legs beside Blaine's shorter ones, and handing him the drink. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Blaine asked as he gratefully accepted the bottle. He was studiously avoiding looking Sam in the eye, not wanting to acknowledge what his friend was really asking. "Yeah, just tired. Coach reshuffled Friedkin, Rutherford and Coleman around and you know that Coleman isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He kept running back to his old position and bumping into Rutherford. It was frustrating."

Sam snorted. He didn't get how Coleman managed to score enough C-pluses to stay out of academic probation. Sam knew he wasn't as smart as Blaine but his problems with his academics were primarily because of his dyslexia. As his recent grade-point average had shown, he most certainly wasn't dumb. But Coleman...Coleman seemed to embody the 'dumb jock' stereotype. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that Coleman gave small, smart kids swirlies in the toilets if they didn't do his homework for him.

The boys chatted for a bit before they broke out the books and did some homework. Blaine was quieter than usual and Sam was shocked when he finished before Blaine did. Sam had learned that, with Blaine, there was a time to push and a time to hold back. Sam had learned to figure this out by watching Blaine's hands and, funnily enough, his mouth.

When they were talking about a topic or arguing about something, the more still Blaine's hands were meant the more he didn't want to be pushed about it. If his hands were animated, then he was just being obstinate or didn't care as forcefully as a listener might think he did.

If they weren't talking, Sam knew when to bring something up or to let it lie by watching Blaine's mouth. Like it was now, it was set in a grim line. His normally wide, plump lips (and Sam unthinkingly licked his own lips while thinking of Blaine's) were practically invisible. This meant that something was not only bothering Blaine, but also that he was thinking really hard on it. That meant Sam's input, no matter how well-meant or wise, would not be appreciated. Blaine would listen to him but he had to think about it first. So Sam let him stew on it.

He sighed softly to himself. That expression had been on Blaine's face for a while now. He knew some of what was bothering him. Finn's comments in glee were borderline rude. Sam hadn't said anything because invariably Kurt and Rachel would beat him to it and usually said it better. Santana would let certain zingers fly, but she zinged everybody, even Mr Schue. What was surprising was Mercedes. He thought she would be more open to someone who would steal the limelight from Rachel and, since Blaine's a boy, they wouldn't be competing for songs (although that didn't seem to stop Unique) but that hadn't been the case. She hadn't said anything  _bad_  as far as he was aware, but she was not as supporting as he had expected.

Blaine hadn't been slushied in a while, mostly because only Lipoff would dare to and Blaine went out of his way to avoid him. Sam frowned. Blaine would sometimes go halfway around the school just to avoid Lipoff. He must be getting tired, constantly looking over his shoulder like that. And since he and Blaine hardly shared any classes, Sam was dismayed that he couldn't be another set of eyes for his friend. Mike could, but Mike had tons of extra-curriculars of his own and was constantly running from one end of the school to the other.

Blaine liked to keep things close. So it must follow that if things were bad for him, he wouldn't want to "trouble" Sam with that information. Sam knew the physical bullying had pretty much stopped. While it helped that Puck had backed off (in fact, it appeared that Puck had pretty much accepted Blaine as a teammate, at least on the field if not off it), the fact that Blaine could mess a person up had made the bullies give him a wider berth.

But Sam still remembered the Blaine he'd sort of idolised at Dalton. Blaine liked being a part of the group. He could see that during rehearsals and during glee. When Blaine was chatting light-heartedly with Kurt and Rachel--and Sugar, surprisingly; Sam wondered what could they possibly have in common--Sam could see the old Blaine. Sam could see how much it bothered Blaine that he wasn't fully accepted by his team. He hid it very well, but Sam could see behind most of Blaine's masks by now.

"Difficult paragraph?" Blaine's question startled Sam out of his reverie.

"What?" Sam asked, confusion explicit on his face.

Blaine smiled. "You were frowning at the book like it killed Pearl and you haven't turned a page in ages," Blaine replied. "I was wondering if you were having problems with the book."

Sam closed the book and stretched, absently thinking that it was time to retire this shirt. He could feel the air on his stomach as it rode high when he stretched his arms high. He was sad for a moment, it was one of his favorites and the material had gotten super soft, but it had gotten kinda small.

"Nah, just thinking...Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked worried again. Blaine was all flushed.

Blaine shook his head and smiled ruefully up at him.  _"Nah,_  just tired," he reiterated, cheekily mimicking Sam's accent. Sam rolled his eyes and nudged him with his elbow.

"Are you hungry?" Sam asked as he got up from the bed and walked to the kitchen area. He frowned as he felt his back was exposed as he leaned over to get up. Now that he'd noticed how small his shirt had gotten, all of its flaws were bothering him: his arms and chest felt pinched, the collar was too loose, the hem at the waist was too short. He sighed and reached for his bag.

"Not yet," Blaine responded, putting away his school stuff.

"Can I grab a shower?" Sam asked, pulling out a shirt and a fresh pair of boxer-briefs (Blaine had convinced him to switch and he really liked the way they fit).

Blaine rolled his eyes, "I keep telling you that you don't need to ask and you keep asking me every time. You sleeping over tonight?"

"You don't mind?" Sam asked as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Honestly? I could use the company," Blaine admitted.

"I'll be done in a sec," Sam said as closed the door. He heard Blaine's "take your time!" though.

While the shower stall was on the small side, Blaine had somehow managed to convince the landlord to put in a rainfall showerhead so Sam actually preferred it to his bathroom at home. Plus Blaine had all kinds of toiletries that were kinda cool.

When he got out, Blaine was in the kitchen heating food. Sam sighed as he folded his old shirt away.

"What's the matter now?" Blaine asked him with his brows raised.

"It's just this shirt, I think it's time to retire it. It's gotten really small."

"But you love that shirt!"

"I know but I feel practically naked in it now. Every time I move I feel like I'm exposing myself."

"You do realize that the female--and some of the male--population of the school will be upset by this bit of news," Blaine teased with a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Then it's definitely time to retire it."

For a second Sam thought he saw Blaine's eyes became calculating but it passed quickly and Sam was sure he imagined it. Blaine nonchalantly picked the shirt up and folded it.

"I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, dude!" Sam said cheerfully and started to put away the rest of his stuff. He didn't notice that Blaine quickly put the shirt in his hamper.

"No worries," Blaine's tone was casual, "and don't call me 'dude'."

-?-

Mike was in the now officially-called Batcave. He was proofreading Blaine's history paper. The writing showed a different side of Blaine. Or, more accurately, if Sam was right, the writing showed an older side of Blaine. It was energetic and dynamic; he could imagine Blaine speaking the words, talking a mile-a-minute, hands gesticulating wildly. He sighed as he highlighted a whole paragraph and typed in a comment that Blaine had once again gone off-tangent. The document had dozens of little tags and highlighted text. When Blaine was really interested in a subject he would lose focus and go all over the place. It was funny really. Blaine knew this and apparently someone named Wes had done this for him back at Dalton. Mike knew that when Blaine had asked him to do this, it was a big deal. He wasn't sure why, but it was. In the end he didn't mind. Blaine's writing may be chaotic, but it was very interesting.

He heard the door open and he saw Sam shuffle into the room. Mike remembered the last time Sam had come in looking and walking like that. It was only a couple of days ago and Sam had asked about popularity of all things. He was concerned that in his quest to be cool, he had put himself into a

"...a maelstorm of drama!" Sam had exclaimed, flopping into a seat and looking at his friend expectantly.

"Maelstrom," Mike had replied simply.

"What?"

"Maelstrom," Mike had then repeated. "It's actually called 'maelstrom'." He'd shrugged. "Most people mispronounce it."

"Huh, I guess you learn something new everyday," Sam had shrugged right back, then continued to stare at Mike. "Well? Thoughts?"

Mike had shaken his head. "You're not going to like my answer."

Sam had then sighed and considered it. Mike always spoke the truth. If it made people uncomfortable, he would stay silent (which explained a lot about Mike) but he always spoke the unvarnished truth. But Sam had asked for advice. "Hit me."

"You  _like_  the drama," Mike had said.

"Wait, what?" The blond had asked, surprised. "How do you figure?"

"You're a simple guy, Sam, with simple wants, that much is true," Mike then began, "but you dated Quinn, Mercedes and Santana precisely  _because_  they are over-the-top divas. You liked the challenge. You like being able to prove how romantic you are, how dedicated you are. You like living up to the image of a rom-com hero."

Sam had shuffled his feet as he thought about Mike's revelation. He'd looked up at his friend as the boy continued on, relentless.

"I know you say you want a simple girl, but, if that were true, why haven't you even considered dating Marley?" Sam had visibly winced as the truth of that question hit home. It was true, Marley was everything he said he was looking for in a girl: sweet, uncomplicated, pretty and compassionate. But he'd never thought of even asking her out.  _Because_ , Sam had thought facing the truth head-on,  _she's a bit boring. No_ , he amended,  _ **I**_ _find her boring, not that she is._

"You like complicated people, Sam, and complicated situations," Mike had finished with a shrug. "This isn't a bad thing. And if you ask me, which you did, I think you like the challenge of dealing with it."

In typical Sam-fashion, Sam had thanked Mike for his insight and really thought about what he said.

Mike was gratified by how seriously Sam took him, so he always endeavored to be worthy of Sam's respect. Mike smiled inside, part of who and what he was now--the laid-back, unflappable "Zen Master of McKinley"--was because he wanted to live up to Sam's idea of him. Self-fulfilling prophecy. It appealed to Mike's sense of the absurd.

But now it seemed that the blond needed his insight again. Even when he was dating Santana, Sam never sought Mike out this much.

"It's Blaine," Sam declared, dropping into his usual chair.

 _Ah_.

"I think the pressure's getting to him," the blond continued worriedly. "His appetite has gone down, he doesn't gel his hair after he showers after practice, he hasn't worn a bowtie in three days, he wore the same cardigan two days running, he spaced off during Doctor Who and slept through Captain America--during a Chris Evans shirtless scene,  _Chris Evans--_ he gets more distracted easily and, well, he hasn't been snarky to me lately. At all."

Mike raised his eyebrow at how well-catalogued Blaine's "symptoms" were. He was beginning to suspect that Sam might have found his latest diva. He grinned to himself, but set that thought aside. Sam's observations  _were_  a cause for worry. One of those things alone could be a fluke but all of them together? Sam was right and Blaine was in trouble.

"I'll back out of the Winter Science and Technology Fair," Mike began, "and turn over chairman duties on the debate, mathletes and academic decathlon over to Lauren, Regina and Artie. That should free up most of my afternoons. I can't really pull back from football but I'll be around for glee, the musical and our projects."

Sam blinked. Mike guessed that Sam didn't think he would immediately agree that there was something wrong or go through the lengths Mike would go for Blaine. Sam really shouldn't be surprised. After all, of all the people in the school, Blaine was the only person Mike considered to bring in the Batcave.

"I think you're right to be concerned, Sam," Mike added. "We both know Blaine would downplay anything that's bothering him. We can't force him to tell us what's wrong," he reminded his impetuous friend, "but we can be more visible in letting him know that we are around if he needs us."

Sam let out a breath and he relaxed. Mike could see that now that they had a plan, something to work for, Sam could focus on doing that instead of worrying.

"Thanks Mike," Sam said gratefully.

Mike smiled at Sam and got back to work.

-?-

Phil Lipoff strode into Coach Beiste's office with purpose. He'd spent the last few weeks off the team and it had  _sucked._ They'd even taken his letter away! Sure, he still got to wear the jacket, but without the letter he wasn't a letterman anymore and he had quickly discovered how it felt to be a nobody. He didn't like it.

So he'd stayed pretty quiet, biding his time, making a determined effort not to pick on any of the losers, Blaine Anderson in particular, when there were witnesses that might report back to Beiste. He figured that keeping his nose clean would get him back on the team, and now here he was, standing in front of Beiste's desk and staring down at his former coach with a determined expression.

"What do ya want, Lipoff?" She asked, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork she was scribbling across, "I'm kinda swamped here."

He frowned but kept his tone level--and not at all aggressive--when he replied, "I want back on the team, Coach."

 _That_ got her attention. She stopped writing, set aside her pen, steepled her fingers and met him with a long, hard stare of her own. He squirmed a little under her intense scrutiny. Finally she spoke, "Take a seat."

He scurried to comply.

"Why do you think you deserve to be let back on?" Shannon asked, her voice neither affirming or denying his request.

He reminded himself to stay calm. If he let his temper get in the way, she'd never come 'round. Taking a deep breath, Phil gave her his best pleading look; the one that never failed to work on his Mama. "I'm sorry, Coach, I was outta line. I get that now. But you gotta know, I've been different these last few weeks. I've stayed outta trouble, left the losers alone..."

"So you could get back on the team?" She supplied, posing it as a question.

He nodded. "Yeah."  _Wait..._  He thought as her expression fell.  _Damn it!_ "I mean, no. Not  _only_ to get back on the team."

"Uh huh," she didn't sound at all convinced. "Look, I like that you've changed your tune and that you're makin' an effort to keep out of trouble. But a couple of weeks doesn't prove jack, Lipoff. What sort of message would I be sendin' the others if I let you back on now?"

"That you believe in second chances?"

"When they're warranted, I do," she nodded, "but I don't honestly feel that a second chance  _is_ warranted right now."

" _What?!"_  His eyes widened. "But, Coach, I've made an effort! I haven't even  _looked_ at any of the freaks and geeks, and--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," she cut in, holding up her hand to silence him. "Listen to yourself. Can you hear what you're saying?"

He blinked. "Um...no?"

She fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration; there was definitely a headache coming on. "'Freaks and geeks', Lipoff. In less than five minutes you've called your targets losers, freaks and geeks. That doesn't sound like a changed man to me, kid."

"But I haven't said it  _to_ them!"

"But why? Because you know it's a mean thing to do, or because you're tryin' to score brownie points to get back on the team?"

He shrugged, now sullen.

But she wasn't done. "Do you know why I booted you off the team to begin with?"

"Because I picked on the fa...er, Anderson." He huffed. He still thought it was bullshit; Anderson had thrown the first punch and hadn't even been benched for a game!

"No," Beiste informed him, rapidly losing patience, "because you're a liability. You're a hot head and you start shovin' people and start fights because it makes you feel like you're in control. You're not a team player and you don't listen to my calls. Shoving Anderson was the straw that broke the camel's back; I'd warned you all to rein it in and you were the only one to test my limits. Even now you're still lookin' out for yourself when a  _real_ team player would be lookin' out for the team." She leant back in her seat, shaking her head. "The answer's still 'no', Lipoff. You need time to think about it, and I mean  _really_  think about it. Try out for basketball at the end of the season."

"This is  _bulls_ hit!" He snapped, and she arched an eyebrow.

"And you just proved my point. A leopard can't change its spots that fast." She gestured to the door. "I think we're done for now, kid. Give it some thought before basketball tryouts. That's a team sport, too."

He stormed away with a glower, none of her words sinking in. As far as he was concerned, this was all Anderson's fault. He'd thrown the first punch and got to stay on the team? How the hell was  _that_ fair?

-?-

"Beiste ain't letting me back on the team," Lipoff groused to Coleman and Surette as they lifted weights during gym. He cast an angry glower across the room at the woman in question while her back was turned. "Bitch is full of shit. Goes on about  _my_ temper, but keeps the fag on the team? When he threw the first punch?"

Surette nodded his agreement. "Total bullshit," he said, lifting his dumbbell with a grunt. "You should see the way he prances all over the field at training now, like he's running the shit. It's a fucking joke."

Lipoff made a sound of disgust. "If ya ask me, the little fairy needs to be brought back down a peg or two. He needs to remember his place."

"Well, yeah, dude," Coleman dropped his weights and mopped at his brow, "but Beiste watches us like a fucking hawk. One wrong move in his direction and we're gonna be followin' yo' ass off the team."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll deal with him myself."

-?-

It was during lunch that Lipoff spied his target, lining up at the cafeteria, a couple of places behind Evans. Unable to help himself, he pushed in behind the shorter boy, sneering, "Well, well, well...look what we have here. It's the private school bitch. How you doin',  _Princess_?"

Honestly, this was the last thing Blaine needed. He was exhausted. Between extra visits to his lawyer concerning his emancipation (it looked as though it would be pushing through the courts sooner rather than later), school, work, and all of his extracurriculars, he was beginning to feel as though he was moving backwards instead of forwards. Stress was clawing at his insides, the need to be perfect--to prove that he could support himself while maintaining his grades and excellence in his chosen extracurricular activities--was slowly taking its toll.

Just the other day, he'd pushed himself too hard, had irritated his ankle, and had embarrassingly fallen apart. Thank God the only one who'd seen it was Sam. In fact, Blaine was grateful that the blond had been there, because there was no one else he would have asked for help from.

But he couldn't let that happen again. He was doing a fairly good job of keeping his personal dramas hidden from everyone else, or so he felt, and he wasn't willing to let that change. He was independent, he reminded himself, he couldn't rely on other people. He had to paste on his best show smile and carry on.

So here he stood, well aware that his limits were being tested, having to deal with yet another of his daily stresses.

"What do you want, Lipoff?" Blaine sighed. He knew the other guy wouldn't try anything physical, but that didn't mean he was harmless.

Phil grinned at him, but it wasn't at all friendly. "Is that any way to talk to your old teammate, Anderson?"

"Look," the shorter boy tried again, determination etched across his features, "I don't want any trouble, you don't want--"

Lipoff cut him off with laughter and took a menacing step forward into Blaine's personal space, the tone of his voice catching the attention of the other people around them, including a number of other jocks, and Sam. "How do you know what I want?" He asked. "Didn't you just  _ask_  me what I wanted? You mentally retarded as well as a fucking homo?"

"Hey, dude, back off," Sam frowned, edging around the Freshman that had separated him and Blaine, the younger kid moving ahead, happy to get out of the older jock's firing line.

The other jocks that had assembled at Lipoff's side chuckled when he shook his head. "Yeah...I don't think so, Evans. Me and Anderson here? We got unfinished business."

Sam's frown only deepened. With everything he knew about Blaine's situation at the moment, plus the fact that he was still favouring his ankle, he did not want to see the shorter boy snap. He didn't think this situation would end in Blaine's favour. "Guys," he met Lipoff's eyes, "you've made your point. You're in a group, you could do a lot of damage..." He shook his head. "Why don't you just--"

"Sam, I've got this," Blaine interrupted.

"B, I'm only trying to help."

Blaine bit back the retort that Sam had helped enough. The unintentional outing was water under the bridge. Besides, these guys would only have found another reason to bully him. "I get that, Sam, but I don't need your help."

The jocks around them laughed. "Hear that, Evans?" One of them chortled, "The pansy don't need your help. How macho does that make you feel?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Real mature, guys."

"Sam! Are you serious? I can deal with their insults on my own, thanks."

They all ignored Blaine's outburst, Lipoff focusing on Sam now, a leer on his lips. "Why do you even care so much?" the jock asked. "He your little boyfriend or somethin'?"

The wall of white and red jackets laughed again.

"You know what?" Sam snapped, now stepping around Blaine to face Lipoff directly. "Yeah. He's my boyfriend. Got a problem with that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all! So much feedback! Loki Firefox and I are just loving it -loving you all- so much. In fact, we love you guys so much for all your wonderful reviews that we put a rush on this chapter. I don't know about Loki, but this is it for me. This is my favourite chapter. Hands down, the best so far. I don't want to spoil anything, so I won't...but...I really, really want to discuss this one. LOL
> 
> PLEASE share your thoughts on this one. Please! Because we're both so anxious for reactions, it's not even funny.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam had no idea what had possessed him to tell Lipoff and the other jocks that he was dating Blaine, but it was out there now. There was no taking it back, even if he wanted to.

The room had fallen silent, stunned by the revelation. The blond dared a sidelong glance at his "boyfriend". Blaine was gaping at him, his expression one of complete surprise. Sam was just thankful that Blaine wasn't angry, recalling all too well the rocky start they'd had when Blaine had just transferred, all because of Sam's big mouth. He'd hate it if this put them right back at square one again.

"Sam..." Blaine eventually choked out. "What are you doing?"

"B, it's okay." Sam replied, trying to send his impromptu plan across to his friend telepathically.  _Go_   _with_   _it_ , he urged silently.  _Too late to back out now._ "It's about time I came out."  _I'm like an improvisational Jedi,_  Sam commended himself, watching as the jocks processed his words. He locked eyes with Blaine. "I'm not ashamed. It's not fair on you to keep hiding it."

"Dude," Lipoff took a step back, eyeing both boys with distaste. Sure, he'd made jokes about Anderson turning Evans, but he didn't actually think it had happened. "No freaking way."

Sam rolled his eyes. He didn't understand what the big deal was. Two guys wanted to make out? Fine. It wasn't hurting anyone.

Another of the jocks shook his head in disbelief, reiterating the general consensus that Sam being gay was ludicrous.

Sam then saw Santana's smirk from across the room. He knew that smirk, she wore it when he spoke about Avatar or when she caught him talking comics with Artie or being goofy with Mike (not that Mike ever was). That smirk told him that he was just being silly, that what he said or did wasn't actually important. Sam's eyes narrowed as he realized that that meant that  _Blaine_  was not important!

 _Fuck that_!

So, riding on adrenaline and now a healthy dose of indignation, Sam reached out and pulled Blaine against his chest.

"Trust me," he whispered, before leaning down and connecting their lips in a kiss.

He was oblivious to the reactions of the jocks around them, completely taken by surprise at how good the kiss felt. He might even have whimpered a little when the shorter boy pulled away, eyes blown wide.

Blaine frowned as he commanded his heart rate to return to normal. He didn't know what to think of what Sam had just done. What he was continuing to do. He knew Sam was straight; he wasn't stupid enough to believe that the blond was suddenly coming out of the closet for real, but he couldn't believe that the guy was crazy enough to do it to try and deflect some of the attention Blaine was getting from the jocks. And with a  _kiss_? What. The. Fuck. On the one hand, it was a strangely nice gesture. (And, damn him if Sam's lips weren't as perfect as he'd imagined they would be...) But, on the other? It was incredibly frustrating.

Frustration won out.

Blaine reached out and grabbed Sam by the (admittedly impressive) bicep, dragging him away from the defunct confrontation and down the halls until he located the Batcave. He pushed Sam into the room and flipped the lock on the door behind them, ensuring complete privacy.

"Have you lost your mind?" He eventually asked, pacing across the floor. "My  _boyfriend_ , Sam?  _Really_? You're not even  _bi_. This is ridiculous!"

"I--"

"I was handling that well enough on my own, you know. Now you've gone and made things  _way_ more complicated than they needed to be. I hate having to lie again!"

"Oh, but it was okay to lie about being straight?"

"I didn't  _lie_ about being straight! I just wasn't going to  _tell_ anyone about being gay, it wasn't their business!" Blaine sighed and ran his hands through his now thoroughly messed-up hair. "But this..I'm  _telling_  them I'm with you when I'm not. It's a fine line, Sam, but that line exists."

Both boys were quiet for a moment. Blaine was looking out the window and Sam was watching him. Sam was upset that he seemed to have made Blaine angry again, but he wasn't sorry for what he did. He couldn't say why but what he'd done felt  _right_. He just couldn't find the words that would make Blaine understand.

Blaine turned to face him and Sam braced himself for another tirade but Blaine's eyes were just sad, and he gave Sam a weak smile which just made Sam ache because he didn't know how to fix that.

"I'm sorry about snapping at you like that, Sam," Blaine began. "And if I'm going to take this road I have to be honest with you and with myself." Blaine took a breath before continuing. "Yes, I technically didn't lie in the beginning--comments about shooting blanks aside," and both both boys shared weak grins at the memory before Blaine plowed on, "but I _was_  being deceitful on the whole. And I hated it, Sam. And I really hated feeling I had to do it. And after all the drama and  _shit_ ," Sam winced at the word as Blaine was rarely ever crude, "I went through I thought I didn't have to anymore. That I at least could move forward from here by being honest; not necessarily tell everyone everything but at least not having to lie to them."

"But that's okay," Blaine shrugged and Sam could see that Blaine had shouldered it like he had everything he had to deal with and Sam wanted to shout that this wasn't a bad thing but Blaine continued on. "I'm new here and frankly my status is pretty crappy anyway so this whole boyfriend thing doesn't really change that. But  _you_ _,_ Sam; you just risked everything with that stunt!"

Sam sighed. "Blaine--"

"The whole school is going to know within the next few minutes, you realise that right? You just  _outed_  yourself to McKinley. Why?  _Why_  would you do that?" Blaine tugged a hand through his hair, heedless of the fact that it had seriously destroyed his gel helmet. "Why do you  _keep_  doing this?"

Blaine didn't understand where the anger was coming from or who he was angry at exactly. All he knew was that Sam--his best friend, one of the nicest, sweetest people he knew--had just put a giant bull's eye on his back. He put up with a lot of crap for being gay, for being different but in a way he felt like it was a battle he earned the right to fight in. Sure, he didn't feel he  _had_ to fight it or should have to but at the same time he was proud to stand up for what he felt was right. He had scars, both physical and emotional, because of it and in some way he was proud of those scars because they were received for him being true to who he was.

But Sam had just put himself in the firing line when he didn't have to. His friend, the one person who made his life easier since he left Westerville, could get  _hurt_  for  _him_. Could get  _scarred_ for reasons that didn't actually apply to him. And Blaine realized that  _that_  was what he was scared of, and why he was so angry.

_Oh Sam._

Sam hadn't just put himself in the front line, he'd made himself one of the prime targets by kissing him in front of the entire school. Wait...it was safer to just forget that the kiss had even happened, focusing on the ramifications of Sam's actions instead. Because if he started thinking about the kiss, he'd want to do it again...and again... _aaaand_  again.

Now it was Sam's turn to frown, unimpressed with Blaine's reminder of their initial confrontation. "Hey! I'm  _helping_  you, dude."

"Helping?" Blaine repeated, incredulous. "In what universe is this  _helping_?"

"You  _didn't_  have things under control. I've noticed you stressing out lately." The blond folded his arms defensively. "Your ankle hasn't completely healed up yet, Coach Beiste  _will_ go to Principal Figgins if you get caught fighting again, and then you'll lose your case against your parents and will have to go to a foster home and I  _panicked_ , okay? I said the first thing that popped into my head to try and get them to back off. I'm sorry if being my boyfriend isn't something you want advertised around the school, but it made them shut up, didn't it?"

"Oh." Sam's earnest explanation took the wind right out of Blaine's sails and he dropped his hands to his sides. His frustration ebbing, he was suddenly more than aware of just how sweet a gesture (despite the craziness) it was for Sam to throw himself into the jocks' firing line because he wanted to keep Blaine from losing everything he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Some part of him wanted to leap around like a giddy schoolgirl at the prospect of even  _pretending_ to date the blond (he was slowly adjusting to the fact that he was crushing on his closest friend), but he knew that this was not going to be easy for either of them to get through. They could try to offer a retraction, but the damage had been done. The gossip mill would be in full swing and the blond's reputation as a ladies' man wouldn't ever be properly salvaged now.

"Sam..." he sighed. "This is possibly the nicest, most insane thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you. I think."

Sam had been bracing himself for further argument and was momentarily taken by surprise by Blaine's quick shift in attitude. "Wait...really? You're not mad?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm confused," he admitted after a moment. "And a little worried that you're really going to regret this." And afraid that he would once again end up thrown to the wolves by someone he thought he could trust, but he didn't want to admit that out loud. Sam was sensitive; he'd be insulted that Blaine could even think him capable of breaking his trust.

"Why would I regret helping you?" Sam asked, then, catching up to the rest of Blaine's answer. "And what's confusing about it?"

Blaine shook his head. " _You're_  confusing, Sam. You're straight. You dated Mercedes, Quinn and Santana. And you've just told  _everyone_  that you're  _my_  boyfriend. You just  _kissed_  me! You flirt with Kurt, Unique and I...and then Rachel..." He swallowed, refusing to concede (even to himself) that he was jealous. "You're...well, confusing sums it all up nicely." He licked his lips as another idea hit him. "Have you even thought this through? I mean, they'll be watching you. Watching us. And now that you're apparently dating me..."

Blaine trailed off, fighting off a blush. People would expect them to be closer than normal, right? Holding hands...maybe even  _more_  kissing in public? The thought created a flurry of butterflies in his stomach that did  _nothing_ to help him avert the crush he'd developed. He bit his lip. "You need to call this off, Sam. Tell them it was a stupid joke."

"I don't think so." Now it was Sam's turn to fold his arms across his chest. "And you can label me, B, but straight, bi, gay, teenage mutant ninja turtle...I'm your friend first. And I'm doing this because you're my friend. I'll be honest, I wasn't thinking when I said it, but I'm thinking it through now. And, yeah, I do flirt a lot. Shouldn't that make it easier for people to believe it?"

Blaine looked away, "But--"

"And I'm not worried about putting on an act, if that's what you're thinking," Sam shrugged. "I'll be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had."

Despite himself, the former Warbler snorted. "That's not going to be difficult, Sam. You'll be the  _only_ fake boyfriend I've ever had."

Before Sam could reply, the Superman theme song rang out loudly from his hip pocket. He grabbed his phone and held it up for Blaine to see. "It's Kurt," he said, unnecessarily. "I guess it's show time, right?'

Blaine almost nodded. Wait... _what_? They were even going to lie to their friends? "No! Sam! Wait--"

But it was too late. Sam had already answered the call, Kurt's shrill voice audible even though the call wasn't on speaker.

"Samuel Evans, so help me Gaga, you start explaining yourself right now!"

Blaine winced while Sam's eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. "Hi Kurt!"

"Don't you 'Hi Kurt' me!" The voice shot back. "Jacob Ben Israel just posted video footage online of you telling half the lacrosse team that you and Blaine are a couple before  _kissing_ him. Kissing, Sam. With lips."

Blaine furrowed his brow: someone had been filming him? What had they been expecting the argument to escalate into, exactly?

Kurt's voice was getting almost impossibly louder, so Sam put him on speaker anyway. "...a  _couple_ , Sam! And it's not a hoax, the clip isn't dubbed, there aren't any tricks of light--it's definitely you on that video." There was a moment of silence, then Kurt sighed loudly, before asking softly, "Why didn't you tell me?" There was none of his usual sass, none of the flirtatious tone that was all Kurt Hummel, just a whole lot of disappointment and a tinge of hurt.

Blaine felt awful for his other friend. He knew Kurt had a genuine crush on him (the entire school knew by this stage), but he couldn't return the feelings. And it was kind of ironic, really, because he was crushing on someone who would never return his own. Unique would call that karma. He wanted to deny it and tell Kurt the truth, but that would just get Kurt's hopes up...so, was it better or worse to keep the lie going to prevent hurting him again later?

Sam took that decision out of his hands, sighing quietly. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I wasn't going to tell  _anyone._ Then it just kind of slipped out."

Blaine had to give the blond credit; he wasn't lying, just telling the truth in such a way that it would be misinterpreted.

Kurt was silent for a bit. "Do you want to talk about it?" He eventually asked, tone schooled back into something perkier, though both Blaine and Sam could hear that it sounded a little forced. "I've been told I'm a  _fabulous_  listener."

"I'm calling b.s. on that," Sam teased back, and Blaine was glad that they were moving back into familiar territory. "You only listen when it will benefit you somehow. Like juicy gossip or blackmail."

Kurt's scandalised gasp crackled over the tinny little speaker. "I am appalled that you think so lowly of me, Sam," he waited a beat, "but, while we're on the topic, tell me; just how juicy is your... _gossip?"_

From somewhere on Kurt's side of the line, they heard Rachel crying out Kurt's name in admonishment. Blaine shook his head, cheeks pink, a slow smile spreading back across his face. Sam was, for all public intents and purposes, his boyfriend, and things were still going on as normal.

Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.

-?-

"Sam," his father greeted him when he walked in the front door (which was a sure sign of the apocalypse because Dwight never left work early. Like,  _never_ ). "A word in the kitchen, please."

Dropping his backpack and toeing off his sneakers, he did as he was told, a sinking feeling developing somewhere in the region of his stomach. His Dad looked pissed. And his Mom (alarm bells were definitely ringing--both his parents were home early!), well, she looked  _worried_ from her spot at the kitchen table.

He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. He thought that it was best to let them guide the conversation and not incriminate himself early on. Not that he knew what he'd done wrong. In fact, he liked to think he was the model son; he never lied to them, he always told them where he was, he never broke curfew, he was never alone with a girl in his room, he was getting his grades up and keeping them there... So this was a new feeling for him.

"Take a seat," Dwight instructed, without adding his usual 'Son' to the end of the request.

 _Shit_ , he realised.  _I really am in trouble. But what for?_

"Sam..." Mary began, fidgeting. His Mom  _never_ fidgeted! "You know you can tell us anything, right?"

He frowned, confused. "Uh,  _yeah_. I always do." He thought they gave awesome advice, and he'd never really made any huge life decisions without talking to one of them first. He hadn't even lost his virginity until after he'd talked to his Dad about it (awkward though that had been).

His Dad sighed and shook his head. "Anything  _interesting_ happen at school today?"

And Sam  _knew_. How the hell had his fake coming out spread to his parents so quickly? He knew they'd somehow seen JBI's blog. His eyes widened and he rushed to explain. " _Ooookay_ , before you freak out, I'm not...I haven't been lying to you. Blaine and I are just friends."

Both of his parents arched their eyebrows at him.

"We've seen the video," his Mom told him. "Do 'just friends' often kiss like that?"

"That was our first kiss!" Wait...that came out wrong. "I mean, no, we don't kiss. Ever. Because we  _are_  just friends. I just...he was being harassed and I, um, improvised. I told them I was his boyfriend to get them to back off and when they didn't believe me..." He trailed off, blushing.

"So...you're  _pretending_  to date Blaine?" Dwight was struggling to comprehend. He wasn't so much bothered by the 'dating a boy' part of the equation as the 'pretending' part. "Sam...I don't like this."

Mary nodded. "A relationship based on deceit will not end well."

"It's not that kind of relationship, Mom."

"It is now," Dwight supplied.

"Dad, you don't get it..."

"Then help me get it, Sam, because this sounds crazy."

Sam sighed and carded his hand through his hair. "He's being harassed a lot. By jocks, even by some of the Gleeks," he thought of Finn's increasingly rude behaviour and clamped down on the urge to punch something, especially because he knew it had probably been going on for much longer than Blaine would tell him, "and, with everything that's happened to him, I just...I wanted to shift the focus. Past that? I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing." He shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is, to be honest."

"We raised you to be, above all else, honest, Sam." Dwight shook his head. "This... _sham_ you've instigated is anything but that. Someone's probably gonna get hurt."

"Dad..."

Mary cut in. "How does Blaine feel about this?" she asked.

"Well..." Sam cursed himself for his inability to be like a normal teenager and just lie to his parents. "He wasn't happy about it to start with, but I convinced him to just give it a go."

"Oh, Sam..." She reached out and brushed a lock of his hair from his eyes. "Does anyone else know that this relationship isn't real?"

He shook his head in the negative.

Now it was her turn to sigh. "What if Blaine was already in a relationship with someone else? What if he wanted to be and you've taken that opportunity from him? I know you mean well, but Blaine is almost an adult, like you, and you just put him in a very difficult position. If I know anything about that boy, and I like to think that I do, it's that he doesn't like to disappoint anyone. What's going to happen when your other friends-- _his_ other friends--discover the truth? Don't you think they'll be upset with the two of you?"

Sam blinked. He hadn't even considered that. As far as he was aware,  _he_ was that person Blaine spent most of his spare time with. If there was someone else, the shorter boy was doing a damn good job at hiding it. But his Mom was right about how Blaine felt about lying to the others...it was kind of wrong for him to just expect Blaine to play along.

Sam sighed. "I did it again, didn't I?" Sam asked with an almost mournful expression on his face.

"Sam...?" Dwight began before Sam continued.

"I thought I was helping him and I just made things worse!"

Mary's heart broke when she saw how upset Sam was when he realized what he'd done. She rushed forward to comfort him.

"Oh Sam," Mary said, trying her best to console her sweet boy. "Blaine knows your actions come from a good place. Yes, you could think a little more about your actions but you know what? I'm proud that your first instinct was to protect your friend and that you did something about it."

Dwight put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Just," he started to say, trying to phrase the words correctly. Like his wife, he was so proud that his son was an honorable young man, but that needed to be tempered. Too many people could (and would try to) take advantage of that; something he had learned at his family's expense. "Just make sure your actions don't put you and the person you're helping into deeper trouble. Do you understand?"

Sam pulled himself together. He pulled himself from his mother's embrace but kept one arm loosely around her. "Yeah," he said, his voice getting stronger as he spoke, "don't stop helping people, just make sure what I do to help won't bite us in the a-uh, behind later."

Dwight nodded and squeezed Sam's shoulder.

Mary looked up at her boy, still unable to get over how much taller he was than her. "You know what to do?"

Sam nodded; he needed to talk to Blaine.

Mary watched the realisation dawn over his features and smiled softly at her son. He was a good boy, and he had good intentions, but sometimes he didn't think things through. "What time will you be home?" She asked him, knowing that he would want to have that particular conversation with Blaine in person and in private, rather than over the phone.

"You're the best, Mom," Sam answered, wrapping his arms around her. "I'll be home by nine? I'll call if I'm gonna be late." He paused and gave his Dad a hug, too. "I'm sorry," he said seriously, "for not thinking about it first. I mean, I'm not sorry I did it, because it  _did_ help but..." He shrugged. "I guess I have some stuff to talk through with Blaine."

Dwight shook his head. "I'm still not okay with the charade, Sam. I don't think it's going to end well."

Sam nodded and looked his father straight in the eye. "Whatever Blaine decides Dad. It's his life that I messed up so I'll go along with whatever he decides." Sam crumpled a bit, his look pleading with his father to understand. "It's the least I can do."

"Okay," Mary didn't want to see them argue; it wouldn't do Sam any good to talk to Blaine while he was in this mood. "We'll talk some more after you and Blaine have had a chance to sort your own thoughts out."

Sam nodded and he gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and left the way he'd come in, sliding his shoes back on before he walked back out the front door.

-?-

Blaine startled when the knocking started at his door. He glanced at the clock on his microwave and frowned. It was after five and he had no clue who would be at his door when most families would be starting to get dinner ready and, oh yeah, nobody bar Sam, Mike and the people in his building even knew where he lived.

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and padded over to the door, clad only in his boxer-briefs and a t-shirt. What? He lived alone and he wasn't expecting company. Whoever was on the other side of the door would have to deal.

He regretted that thought the second he opened the door to find Sam Evans wearing an adorable expression reminiscent of a kicked puppy. "Sam?" He asked, attention unwittingly drawn to the pouty lips that he'd been trying hard not to think about ever since he'd been kissed by the taller boy that afternoon. (And don't even get him started on the temptation to check out the video JBI posted...which, you know, was  _only_ because he wanted to know what sort of damage he'd be looking at for tomorrow.)

"Sorry to just drop by unannounced," Sam said, scuffing the toe of his shoe across the ground. "Can I, uh, come in?"

"Um, sure..." Blaine took a step back from the doorway and allowed his (dear God) fake boyfriend to enter the apartment. They stood together in awkward silence for a moment before the shorter boy asked, "So, you only dropped me off, like, an hour ago...and I'm not complaining, but, um, why are you here?"

"My parents saw the video," Sam said without preamble, dropping unceremoniously onto the bed. "And I told them everything. And my Mom...she said some things that really got me thinking..."

Blaine swallowed. Mary and Dwight had been really accepting of him, but now he worried that they'd freak out because their straight son was suddenly on film kissing him. "Oh?" He asked, trying for nonchalance, sitting awkwardly at the kitchen table, despite really wanting to plonk down on the space beside the blond.

"She pointed out that I might have put you in a pretty crappy position," Sam responded, running his hand through his hair. "And I guess I kinda did."

"Wait...what?" It sounded as though Mary was concerned for him rather than Sam. "I don't get it. You put  _yourself_  in a crappy position." He licked his lips. "It's not too late to back out, you know."

Sam shook his head. "Are you dating someone?" He asked, feeling slightly irrationally jealous as he did, brushing the feeling aside as quickly as it came on. "Or is there someone you want to date? 'Cause what I did would totally have ruined that, right?"

Blaine blinked. Was Sam serious? "Uh, no," he answered, feeling a little overwhelmed. "When would I even have the time to be dating? And you're the only one who knows about, well,  _this,_ " he gestured at the space around them vaguely, "and you remember how I didn't even want to tell you about it..." He shrugged. "I haven't been...I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be dating, Sam. So, while your concern is really touching, you don't need to worry."

Blaine knew he was hedging the question about whether he wanted to date. It was a moot point, really. The only guy he was interested in was currently sitting across from him, on his way to apologising for a grand (slightly crazy but surprisingly impressive) gesture, and was almost painfully straight. And was also his fake boyfriend. There was a bittersweet sense of irony in that.

Sam looked across at him, his relief obvious. "Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel less guilty?"

"Sam, I know that I haven't been the paragon of truth since you met me," Blaine replied, "but I would think that you'd know by now that I wouldn't lie to  _you_."

Sam's face fell. "Unless someone doesn't give you a choice."

"Sam..."

"No, B, Mom pointed that out, too." The blond flopped backwards, utterly defeated and unable to look his friend in the eye. "You hate having to lie and you hate disappointing people and I'm making you do both to our friends. Your friends."

Blaine's attention was caught by the sliver of abdomen revealed by the raised shirt and he forced himself to focus on the conversation, not the fact that Sam was sprawled out almost invitingly across his bed. "You're right," he admitted, "I don't like lying to people, and it really bothers me that I've been doing it a fair bit lately, but at the same time, in this particular situation, who I'm dating--or not dating--isn't their business anyway. And you didn't set out to put me in any sort of crappy position; what you did was really sweet. Insane, but sweet."

The blond propped himself up on his elbows. "Really?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Are you going to ask that every time I say anything now?"

Sam smirked, "I'm thinking about it. Seeing you get all annoyed is kinda hilarious."

"Ugh," Blaine feigned frustration, but the smile pulling at his lips gave him away. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you, Sam Evans?"

"Well..." The blond, no longer feeling particularly apologetic or morose, turned sly. "We're s'posed to be dating, right? And we've got this place all to ourselves... Wanna practice making out?" He patted the space beside him and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Gotta make it look convincing for school."

Blaine felt his heart do a somersault. Then a backflip. He swallowed, and, despite the fact that Sam was joking, he knew that he was blushing and hoped the dim lighting of his apartment disguised it. "Uh, no, Sam. Just...no."

Sam pouted at him. "What? Am I not attractive enough? Is that what you're saying?" He teased, pretending to be insulted and hurt. A tea towel, damp from recent use, flew across the room and swatted him in the face with surprising accuracy.

"You're such a dweeb," Blaine said with a laugh.

" _Dweeb_? Which decade are you from, Anderson?"

"Oh, this from Captain America himself?"

Sam laughed. "Was that supposed to be an insult? You need help, B."

Blaine shook his head, smiling. "Isn't that was this entire thing is all about? Helping me?"

"Well...yeah, but it's kinda helping me just as much."

"I sincerely doubt that," Blaine scoffed. "Kissing me? Pretending to be gay? How is that helping you at all? If anything, you're just begging for trouble."

Sam shrugged. "Did you know that Santana dragged me into a closet the other day and practically mauled me?"

Blaine blinked at the non-sequitur. "Um, no?" And no way was he jealous.  _Nope_. Not at  _all_.

Okay, maybe a little.

The blond nodded. "Well she did. Told me that she wanted to get back together."

"Oh," the shorter boy still wasn't following. He might have been gay, but even he could see that the Latina was smokin' hot. And Sam was straight, so...this made no sense.

"Thing is, I hated being with her. And she only wanted to get back with me because Kitty wants to be with me..."

Yeah, Sam was starting to sound a whole new level of crazy. "So, what you're saying is that two cheerleaders are fighting for your attention and...you'd rather  _pretend_  to date...me?"

Sam nodded with a grin. "Exactly!"

"Um...why?"

"Because those girls are crazy! And they only want to be with me because I'm popular and...what did Kurt say?" He frowned adorably as he recalled the conversation he'd had with the other boy and Unique. "I'm too nice to them?"

Blaine frowned. "So...don't be? Tell them you're not interested?"

"Have you  _met_  Santana and Kitty? I did! They  _don't_ take 'no' for an answer."

"So I'm your, what, your beard?" Blaine asked with a puzzled expression. "Wait, does that even work like that?"

"Dude, you're over-thinking this," Sam tried to reassure him. "Trust me."

Blaine snorted, "The last time you said that to me, I had my mug plastered all over YouTube being kissed by my straight best friend."

"I wasn't bad, was I?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Seriously?  _That's_ what you're worried about?" When Sam was about to answer, Blaine cut him off. "Never mind, if we're doing this we have to set some ground rules."

Sam sat up. "Fair enough, but we are so revisiting the kissing thing," Sam replied cheekily. Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Rule one--"

"Wait, don't I get to set some rules, too?" Sam asked, interrupting Blaine.

"Sure, but me first. Rule one--"

"So do we take turns or--"

" _RULE_   _ONE_ : If  _either_ of us finds someone that they want to be with, we break this thing off immediately."

Sam nodded. Given the conversation that he'd had with his parents and subsequently Blaine, this made sense to him. "Okay," he agreed easily. "Rule--"

"Rule number two--"

"Hey!"

Blaine sighed. "Fine. We'll take turns."

Triumphant, Sam sat up straight, thinking hard about his rule. "Okay, I got it. Rule number two: I'm allowed to be physically affectionate."

"Sam..." Blaine frowned. This could only end badly.

"No, hear me out. I'm allowed to hold your hand, hug you, sit in your lap or have you sit in mine, 'cos dude, you're kinda small, and," Sam continued past Blaine's indignant "hey!", "You are, dude, get over it and," Sam raised his voice when it looked like Blaine was going to interrupt him, " _and_ kiss you if the situation calls for it, so long as we're both comfortable with it."

When Blaine still looked unconvinced, Sam pressed harder. "Dude, you don't understand. Santana has wickedly good radar, if we don't lay it on thick, she's not going to buy it."

Blaine licked his lips, the images Sam was putting in his head far outweighing the voice in his head that told him that agreeing to this rule was a bad idea. For all his determination to be mature, he was still an teen guy...he couldn't always rely on his brain to make the decisions for him. "Yeah," he sighed, trying not to sound nervous at the prospect. "Okay."

Sam sighed in relief.

Blaine shook his head, bemused by the blond's reaction. "Rule number three: we both have to keep our lines of communication open. This is confusing enough, so we have to make sure we talk to each other at the end of the day or first thing in the morning."

"Dude," Sam said slowly, as if talking to a toddler, "we do that anyway."

"This time it's different, Sam," Blaine explained, "we sometimes break into arguments over misunderstandings when we were just friends, now that we're, well...dating," he was proud that he didn't stumble too much over the daunting word, "it's going to get even more confusing. I don't want to mess up our friendship because one of us misunderstood an action or something during a relationship that we're faking!"

Sam's mouth twisted, trying to keep from smiling, seeing how important this was to Blaine. But fierce Blaine was really funny, like a puppy. Except when he was fierce to people other than Sam, that Blaine was kinda scary.

"Let's just make sure that at the end of the day or at the start of the day, we always know where we stand with each other. We're in this together so we can never doubt each other," Blaine finished.

Sam nodded. "That's smart. Agreed. Okay my turn," Sam said then looked up, brow furrowed as he thought hard. Then his face cleared up. "Rule five--"

"Four," Blaine interrupted.

"Four?" Sam asked. "Are you sure?" At Blaine's nod, Sam shrugged and continued. "Rule Four: both of us have to agree on who gets to know the truth. One person can't make that decision on his own." Sam really wanted Blaine to agree to this one. He was worried Blaine was going to feel guilty about the lying thing and it would compel him to tell too many people and Sam was worried that if too many people knew the truth it could get back to Santana and Lipoff and undo everything.

"Fair enough," Blaine conceded. "Rule Five: we don't let this change us especially how we behave with each other. I still want us to be the same Blaine and Sam we were yesterday. This whole exercise is pointless if we lose our friendship."

Sam opened his mouth to say something and Blaine interrupted, knowing exactly what Sam was going to say. "Except where Rule Two applies," Blaine said exasperatedly. Sam answered Blaine's tone with a smug smile.

"I think that about covers it," Sam said. Then Sam noticed that Blaine narrowed his eyes. "I assume by your look there's one more?" Blaine nodded.

"And finally," Blaine said with utter seriousness, "you cannot, under penalty of a fake break-up, call me 'dude'."

Sam blinked at him, then a lazy smile blossomed on his face. "Whatever you say,  _babe_." And as Blaine looked up to the ceiling and groaned, Sam pressed. "Now about my kissing--"

"Not happening, Sam," Blaine said as he got off the kitchen table and walked to the fridge.

"Blaine,  _babe_ ," Sam said smiling as he heard Blaine groan at the term of endearment while his head was buried in the fridge. "I need to know if there is need for improvement. Besides, I think we need to practice to make it look real."

"Still not happening, Sam," Blaine said as he pulled out ingredients for what looked like soft-shell tacos. Sam grinned, he loved Blaine's soft-shell tacos. He grinned as an evil thought entered his head and jumped out of bed and went behind Blaine and put his arms around him.

"Aw, Blaineybear, what are people going to think if you don't show them that you love me?" Sam found that teasing Blaine was fast becoming one of his favorite hobbies.

"They're going to think that we are considerate people by keeping the PDA to an absolute minimum," Blaine said primly, using all of his acting skills to appear nonchalant in Sam's embrace.

"Ruuuule Tooo-woooo," Sam sing-songed into Blaine's ear and Blaine tried not to react to the goosebumps that exploded across his skin.

"We need to be super comfy with each other," Sam explained, "or we're never going to pull this off."

Blaine finally laughed, more to release the tension than anything else but he was finding the situation pretty funny any way.

"Fine. But not tonight," Blaine said firmly. One couldn't accuse him of never trying to delay the inevitable. "We're having tacos and no way will my mouth be going near yours after tacos."

"Deal," Sam conceded. He let it go, after all, there's always tomorrow and Blaine really did make good tacos.

"And don't call me 'Blaineybear'," Blaine added then, when Sam pouted, rolled his eyes and amended. "Fine. Just don't say it in public." He paused. "In fact,  _no_ pet names in public."

Sam frowned. "You're no fun."

"Somehow, I think you'll live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...most people didn't see "The Declaration" coming. Perfect! Loki and I really wanted to surprise and I guess we did. Admittedly, back when we first started writing this fic, that was scheduled to happen in chapter 3 and it was going to be light and funny and fluffy...but, well, we might have gotten a little carried away with plot/character development. :)
> 
> So many of you are chasing the romance (as am I) and I can genuinely say that the pace will pick up from here. While last chapter was -and still is- my favourite, this chapter was just as fun to write and we can't wait for your responses.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just want to repeat again because it's brought up in this chapter that when we wrote this, we were under the impression that Unique was a gay boy who cross-dresses, not someone who's transgender. No offense is intended. Since this is AU, please assume that in this 'verse, Unique is not transgender but gay who likes to dress up as a girl. (If Sam can like boys and Santana can lose her heart of gold, Unique can be a gay transvestite.)

Blaine was hiding. He was man enough to admit it. When Sam had left the previous night it all seemed so reasonable that he... _no_...that  _they_  could do this. That feeling stayed when Sam picked him up that morning, but it blew away like a feather in a hurricane when they'd arrived at school.

Sam had whispered, "It's going to be fine," and grabbed Blaine's hand, walking them into McKinley. And if it wasn't for that hand and Sam's whispered reassurance, Blaine would have turned around and ran.

Everyone had stopped and stared. Conversations literally stopped mid-speech and people turned to looked at them as they walked past. And Sam--Sam who should have been nervous, who should have been the one terrified because at least Blaine should have been used to this--walked him to his locker like it was just any other day.

He didn't know where Sam got his calm but Blaine thanked the gay gods for it because it helped steady him having Sam rock solid beside him, especially since Kurt was a no-show, at least that morning.

Kurt had texted him non-stop that night, of course, asking all sorts of questions: when had he started falling for Sam, was there one thing that Sam did that did it or did it creep up on him unexpectedly? What was Sam like at Dalton and, if they were both still there, would they have ended up together?

At least these were the kind of questions that Blaine could answer honestly and he was relieved that he didn't have to deceive Kurt more than he already was: Not sure exactly, it crept up unexpectedly, Sam was quiet at Dalton, totally unlike how he was at McKinley, probably not--which led to longer texts explaining why he didn't think so and Blaine had been honest when he told Kurt that specific circumstances led to their present situation and that he was unsure if those same circumstances would have happened had they been at Dalton. And so on it went all night. Blaine didn't mind since it stayed on topics he could be truthful about. The irony wasn't lost on him that if Sam were to read those messages, he'd probably feel guilty that Blaine was "lying" to Kurt to preserve their cover.

Kurt had finally ended the interrogation at almost three in the morning. Blaine, while exhausted, hadn't minded as he'd felt that he owed something to Kurt. Besides, he hadn't been able to sleep, and he truly did want to talk about his feelings about Sam to someone, no matter how obliquely, and Kurt was a good friend and was more than happy to oblige him.

He was worried about the situation being confusing. His text exchange with Kurt more than exemplified it: he was talking honestly about his true feelings for Sam, who everyone thought was his boyfriend when they really weren't, and Sam would believe those feelings he'd shared with Kurt were made up when they really weren't. And here he thought that he was done being deceitful. Well he would be truthful, he just wouldn't make it his problem what other people chose to believe.

Although that skated dangerously close to breaking Rules Three and Five. But surely preserving his sanity was a good reason?

There was an unintended consequence of his and Kurt's late night pow-wow though. Blaine might have been used to late nights and early mornings, but Kurt wasn't, and he was late getting to school so Blaine had to face the hallways of McKinley alone after saying goodbye to Sam--who managed to steal a surprisingly convincing kiss before heading off to his class.

Blaine could feel the stares and he had first period free that day. He normally would go to the Batcave but, under such scrutiny, he doubted he could go there unobserved and he wanted the sanctity of that place preserved so he went to the library instead. He hid out in the rear stacks, glad that hardly anyone ever went to the history section.

But there was a reason why he was grateful for the Batcave. "Hardly anyone" didn't mean "no one". He almost walked into two seniors, one in a Cheerio uniform, sitting on the floor apparently painting their toenails. He recognised them vaguely as extra dancers for West Side Story, but couldn't recall their names. He ducked into the next aisle. He wasn't seen because if he had been, he was certain that he wouldn't have heard their next exchange.

"Bitch please, Blaine and Sam together? Why is anyone, like, surprised? Sam's been driving him to school everyday! My own boyfriend doesn't do that for me!"

"I know, right?" the other girl replied. "I mean he'd watch him during practice, like,  _all_  the time."

"Who'd watch who practice?"

"Well Sam first, never missed a lacrosse game either, but then Blaine watched him at football practice, too."

"Oh! I saw them one time, Sam was, like, super sweet and asking Blaine if he was okay and if he was overworking it or something. Really cute."

Blaine snorted, remembering that day and Sam's concern about his ankle. He guessed from another point of view it did look like Sam's behavior was like that of a concerned boyfriend.

"Tina saw them at the Lima Mall one time sharing a DQ shake."

"Santana is  _loca_  if she thinks she can get Sam now that he has Blaine," the Cheerio said snidely. "I mean more  _loca_  than usual."

The girls giggled. "I don't blame him!"

"Oh yeah, Blaine is hot!" Blaine couldn't help but blush.

"No!" Blaine could feel the girl roll her eyes from where he was hiding. "I mean  _yes,_  he is, but what I meant was that after dating Santana, I don't blame him turning gay! She's a hot mess."

Blaine couldn't stop the smirk that graced his own lips at that and almost joined in their muffled laughter. But when the two girls started speculating on who did what to whom, and how far along they thought he and Sam were sexually, Blaine quietly left, face aflame and some particularly hopeful (but dirty) thoughts fuelling his imagination.

-?-

Sam was so relieved at how calm Blaine was that morning. He, personally, was an absolute mess. He'd skipped breakfast and had to go back into the house three times, forgetting (in order) his car keys, Stacy and Stevie's lunch and Stacy and Stevie. He had already pulled out from the curb when he saw his brother and sister watching him in puzzlement by the door and his Mom grinning at his rare display of nerves.

When they'd arrived at school, he got so nervous that he grabbed Blaine's hand and had to whisper to himself that it was going to be fine. He'd reminded himself that Blaine had done this everyday since he'd come out and he drew strength from Blaine's example. Blaine was his rock. Sam had seen the looks and heard the whispers and sudden silences their passage provoked, and had decided that if Blaine could ignore it so could he.

He'd walked Blaine to his locker by habit and then realized that they wouldn't see each other all day except for lunch and glee that afternoon. He'd wanted to turn around and run. But Blaine would be all alone and he could never do that.

He saw Santana down the hall looking decidedly unimpressed as she stared him down, but he remembered her smirk from the previous day: her implication that Blaine was not important and that stiffened his resolve. It also reminded him to make it look good. He  _knew_  they should have practiced last night! He was mostly just fooling around about, well, fooling around but he had to admit that the Kiss yesterday was pretty amazing and he was curious to know if it was because of the moment or if kissing Blaine again without all that drama would still give him tingles? Now he had to make Santana believe that this was real without practice. Well...he  _was_  an improvisational Jedi, wasn't he?

Sam was determined to convince Blaine later on the importance of Rule Two. In the meantime, he'd just hoped his next action looked convincing. "Later, babe," he said and kissed Blaine lightly on the lips before heading off to class.

He'd smiled as he'd realized that kissing Blaine was easier than he thought it would be, and he'd smirked as he caught Santana's frown, tilting his head in acknowledgement as he passed her down the corridor.

-?-

"I heard that Anderson and Evans were together at Dalton and that Anderson transferred schools to be with him."

"Don't be stupid, who  _does_  that?"

Sam had PT that morning and was getting dressed in the locker room when he overheard his and Blaine's names. He peeked around a row of lockers and saw three guys talking, two of them Blaine's teammates, the third one was Shane, the guy Mercedes left him for. He'd heard they broke up but it was never clear to him why they did, although it seemed the break up was friendly. Mercedes never gave him a straight answer and he wasn't going to ask Shane. Shane was an okay guy and a solid teammate but they weren't friends. They weren't enemies either, they just ran in different circles.

"I heard that Evans and Puckerman fought over him in the locker--"

"Dude shut up! Do you want to die?!" One of them looked around nervously and Sam quickly turned away before he could be seen.

"Don't even kid about that," the guy, Ollie--Sam remembered his name--demanded.

"So," the first one continued... _Sean_? Sam wasn't sure. "Evans, huh? Who would have thought?" There was a slight pause. "You think Anderson turned him?" Sean asked and Sam held his breath.  _This_ _is_ _it_ , he thought,  _make or break time_.

"Nah, remember how Evans went after him?" Ollie answered. "Anderson avoided him for a while in the beginning, remember?"

"Dude! We showered with Evans!" Sean exclaimed. "He could have been checking us out!"

Sam rolled his eyes at the same time as hearing the snorts from the other guys. "Get over yourself, man! Evans dated Quinn and Santana. Do you think they would have put up with a gay dude? Besides, even if he likes dick now, what makes you think you rate?"

Sam couldn't help but sigh in relief as Sean and Ollie started to bicker and tease each other. It was easy to tell Blaine that he didn't care what other people thought in the security of the Fortress, and for the most part he did mean it. But he was also a teenaged-boy and while he would have sucked it up, it was nice to know that they didn't seem to think much less of him.

"At least now that I know he's with Evans I don't feel like he's watching me in the showers."

"Dude, first Evans and now Anderson?" Ollie was teasing again. "I think you  _want_  them to watch you!"

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"You morons are missing the point," Shane finally joined in the conversation. He wasn't as big a deal as Puck, or even Sam or Finn, but he was solid and a lot of the guys in the various teams respected him, too.

"What's the point then?"

"The point is, shit-for-brains, it's not important if Puck or Sam fought over Anderson. The point is that Sam fought Puck  _for_  Anderson. Those two are together and, yeah, it's a little messed up but at least they were keeping it their business. Only reason shit got public is 'cos Lipoff don't have the brains God gave a rock."

Sam shook his head as the other two made grossed out sounds. Shane continued.

"So remember that. If Sam is crazy enough to take on Puck for his boy, you think he's not gonna mess you up if you do? And it's not like Anderson can't take care of himself. He might be a fairy but he can take a hit and deal them out. You guys saw what he did to Lipoff's face before Beiste separated them, right? Man, that was just one punch. And now that Sam has his back?" Sam heard Shane sigh when the other two sniggered and joked about him "having" Blaine's back.

"You motherfuckers go ahead and laugh," Shane said exasperated. "But don't come cryin' to me when those two end you if you mess with them."

"You know," Sean started. "He  _is_  with Evans now; why is he going to look at us when he's got him? I mean have you  _seen_  Evans? Dude is ripped!"

There was silence for a while and then Ollie said, "You know, dude, sometimes I worry about you."

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

Sam shrugged and left them at it. He was late for PT. He was grinning like a fool, though, because for some reason his insane plan actually seemed to be working.

-?-

Mike knew that people thought that he was a genius. And if you looked at his academic record, that supposition would be supported. But Mike knew that he was, at best, probably only slightly above average in intelligence. He supposed that Sam was actually smarter than him, but having his dyslexia and growing up thinking he wasn't smart held him back. But he knew better. Sam picked things up faster than he did, and, despite a learning disability, Sam was never held back at school and he'd learned a fictional language in three months.  _Why_ he'd bothered, Mike had no idea, but it definitely proved that Sam was no idiot.

In fact, Mike would argue that Sam was definitely smarter than him. He definitely had an amazing memory, he could remember word-for-word something someone once said in passing, probably a consequence of having difficulty reading, Sam made sure to remember what people told him.

So Sam may have a higher IQ and, possibly, an eidetic memory but what Mike had, however, was an organized mind, discipline, a solid work ethic, and an almost religious drive to succeed.

So, Mike was no genius, but even he had guessed that something was up between Blaine and Sam. He wasn't given to false modesty, and neither was he the type to claim to know more than he actually knew, so it was essentially the truth when he said that he knew those two better than anyone.

He didn't like to indulge in gossip, but if he  _did_  he would have been the first to say that there was something going on between the two other boys, though neither would admit to it (even to themselves).

But he hadn't known they were together. At least...not until Sam made his earth-shattering announcement yesterday. So, he supposed, he'd been wrong: the other boys clearly  _had_ admitted their feelings after all.

Of course, this wasn't what he'd meant when he'd suggested to Sam that they be more supportive of Blaine, but he had to admit it was definitely an interesting choice of action.

It was a good thing he'd cleared up his schedule, too, because it looked like both Blaine and Sam were going to need him.

"Hi Mike!"

Mike turned and gave Tina a closed-lipped smile, before shrugging and walking away. He didn't want to be rude but he didn't want to encourage her either.

He was aware that Tina carried a torch for him, and she  _was_  one of the nicer Cheerios, but ever since Freshman year when she'd joined the Cheerios and became one of Santana's close friends, he'd stayed away. For one thing, he didn't want to be anywhere near Santana's radar, and for the other--after becoming Sam's friend--he could never be with someone who was friends with someone that had treated Sam the way Santana had.

Sure, sometimes he thought about what could have been, if Tina wasn't Bib Fortuna to Santana's Jabba the Hutt, but, in the end, if Sam's stories were anything to go by, he was glad he'd dodged that bullet.

He met up with Blaine in their first class together and thoughts of Tina were pushed aside when he noticed the relief in Blaine's eyes.

"I am so glad to see you," the younger boy said almost desperately.

Mike raised his eyebrows.

"No, it's much worse," Blaine replied, as fluent as Sam was in Mikespeak, "I actually overheard some seniors-- _girls_ \--speculating on well...uh, you know." Blaine ended, recalling the rather graphic details the girls were discussing and averting his eyes, trying to force his libido--and blush--back under control.

Mike smirked and Blaine playfully punched him on the shoulder.

"It isn't funny!" He exclaimed but the smile threatening to come out plainly meant that Blaine did appreciate it on some level.

"Hey!" Mike winced and rubbed his shoulder. Blaine sometimes forgot his own strength and he gave him a look to remind him.

"Ah," Blaine's expression was a curious half-smirk, half-apology, "sorry Mike."

Class started soon after that and Mike saw that Blaine was surprised, then pleased and grateful that Mike stuck by him all morning, shooting Mike a grateful look of his own.

At their last class together before lunch, Blaine paled and muttered, "I can't do this." When he saw Mike look at him questioningly, he extrapolated. "Face everyone in the cafeteria? I just can't."

Mike nodded and cocked his head to the side. Blaine brightened up considerably. "Of course! You're awesome! Can you text Sam? I'd better text Kurt myself that I won't be joining them for lunch. He'll make me pay for it later, but better that..." Blaine trailed off as he pulled out his phone.

Mike shook his head as he texted Sam that he and Blaine would be at the Batcave for lunch instead of the cafeteria.

-?-

Blaine and Mike arrived early to the Batcave. Blaine sat down with relief and seemed to stare at nothing while Mike opened his laptop. He looked over at Blaine and he was suddenly curious to know how they'd finally decided to get together after resisting their mutual attraction for so long.

"Who finally broke first?"

Blaine almost jumped in surprise and Mike could actually see his mind shifting from whatever it was he was thinking to dealing with Mike in the here and now.

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"Who finally asked who out first?" Mike asked patiently. He then smirked. "If I was a betting man, I'd say it was Sam."

"Damn straight Sam is responsible for this," Blaine muttered darkly and Mike was surprised, both at the tone and the fact that Blaine rarely ever cursed.

Blaine saw his look and was about to say something, then seemed to change his mind, shifted in his seat and pulled out his phone. "Gimme a sec, Mike, this won't take long."

He texted something and then waited a little while then called someone.

"Sorry I had to call it's important...Okay, I'll wait," Blaine drummed his fingers in an uncharacteristic display of nerves then perked up. "What? No, Sam, I'm fine. I'm at the Batcave with Mike...yeah I know he texted you...no, it can't wait until lunch--wait, what?" Blaine sighed and turned to Mike, "Sam wants to know if you want your usual for lunch, he'll bring it."

Mike nodded and Blaine turned back to the phone. "Mike said 'yes'. Look, I...yes, I'll have the tuna," Blaine rolled his eyes but Mike could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "then I'll have whatever you're having.  _Sam_!" Blaine practically shouted into the phone. "I'm invoking Rule Four...what? no that's Rule Three, Rule Four is the secret thing...no  _you_  thought it was Five 'cos you miscounted...it's your rule, all your rules are the even-numbered ones--yes except for the pet names one... Look, I just think we should tell Mike," Blaine nodded at something Sam said, "Yeah, exactly. And if we can't tell Mike who can we...right. Okay I'll talk to him and see you later." He hung up with a sigh and then turned to face Mike, something akin to resolve etched into his expression.

"Okay here goes," Blaine said, as though steeling himself for something monumental. "It isn't real." He let out a big breath like he'd just dropped a huge weight.

Mike looked at him, clearly confused. "What's not real?

"The relationship," Blaine said as if he couldn't quite believe that Mike was not following this, "it isn't real." Mike's expression didn't change, because honestly? That phone call had honestly sounded like a real call between a real couple. Blaine leaned forward.

"Mike, seriously, Sam made it all up on the spot yesterday in his misguided attempt to think this would get Lipoff and his gang of tools to leave me alone. It's fake."

"Wait...what?" Mike asked, not really following. "Then why?"

"He's just doing this because he's a good friend."

"Blaine," Mike looked him straight in the eye. "Next to you, I'm Sam's best friend." Mike waved off Blaine's half-hearted denial. They both knew that Sam had put Blaine first and neither one minded. "Could you honestly say he would do this for me? If I were in your shoes?"

"Well, yeah, probably. Sam's just a good guy."

Mike shook his head. Blaine was pretty dense if he thought Sam was only doing this because he was looking out for a friend.

He glanced at his watch and, realising that Sam was on his way, sighed. "Blaine, seriously...stop and think about it. Would he do this for me? Or Kurt or Wade?"

Blaine frowned, feeling a prickle of jealousy flare at the thought of Sam with the other boys, holding their hands, kissing them...but, at the same time, he tried to think about it objectively, and he couldn't honestly see Sam putting himself in that position to begin with. Then again, he never would have expected Sam to do that for him, either.

Mike watched the emotions play out on Blaine's face and realised that he was approaching this all wrong. Picking up on the other boy's jealousy, he decided to run with it. "Okay," he started, "ignoring how Sam may or may not feel, I think it's pretty obvious that you're really invested in this, like a real relationship."

"Uh, no...he's my best friend. That's the real relationship that I'm invested in. As a friend."

"Blaine, stop. We're in the Batcave, it's just us. Be honest. At least with yourself."

The younger boy shifted uncomfortably. He knew very well how he honestly felt about Sam and it worried him that Mike could see it. But how he felt was a moot point anyway, wasn't it? Because Sam was straight, and this whole charade was just his goofy, over the top way of being a good friend, no matter what Mike was trying to imply.

But then, if Mike was so eerily correct about how he felt about Sam, maybe he  _was_ on the right track when it came to Sam's motivations? Could that even be possible, or was his wishful thinking kicking in to overdrive?

He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Mike, no, I--"

Eyebrow arched, Mike moved to press further, maybe try a little "methinks the boy doth protest too much", but Blaine was spared by Sam hurtling into the room, tossing them each a sandwich.

"So," the blond said, glancing between them, "what'd I miss?"

Blaine looked away, feeling more than a little uncomfortable given the path of his thoughts--and the conversation he'd been having with Mike--mere seconds before Sam waltzed through the door. He was grateful that Mike chose to answer the question, giving Blaine just a little more time to get his thoughts back under control.

"Blaine told me that you're faking a relationship," Mike said, giving up on being his usual Zen Master self for now. These boys needed someone to get them thinking and on the right track, and he didn't think his usual silent routine was going to cut it. It was a pity that neither of the others could see what he could, both clearly in denial about their feelings, and blind to the neon signs being bandied about that so obviously proclaimed 'I'm into you'. "I'm assuming this was your idea?"

Sam grinned and nodded, unwrapping his lunch and biting into it with a gusto. "Mmhmm," he agreed, his mouth full. Blaine made a face at the display, which Sam ignored.

"Sam...why? What would give you the idea that dating Blaine would get Lipoff and his crew to back off?" Mike's tone landed somewhere between baffled and amused, well...as much as it could for Mike, at any rate.

Sam frowned. "But it's kinda working!"

"I just don't see the logic. I'm not saying it isn't working for you, but..." Mike trailed off and shook his head. "You have to admit it sounds crazy, Sam." In fact, it was so crazy that it had 'Sam' written all over it.

"B," Sam turned to Blaine and sighed, "you get it, don't you?"

"Umm..."

The blond's eyes widened. "Come  _on,_ B," he pleaded, "we talked about this!"

"I know, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. It was sweet...it  _is_ sweet...but I'm with Mike, I guess. I don't see how your reasoning computes." He watched as Sam's face fell, and forced his lips into a genuine smile, "But I trust you, so..." He shrugged.

Sam sighed. "Well," he mused, "I guess that's a good thing. And it'll give me a chance to prove it to you both, too."

Mike watched as Blaine and Sam shared another smile and lapsed into banter and fought the urge to shake them both until they realised what was happening.

He'd just have to get them each alone at some point and try reasoning with them again. Although, he considered, he might only have to corner Sam...The blond was the aggressor after all, and he was the one whose denial ran deepest. If Mike could get him to see how he truly felt, everything would fall into place from there.

-?-

Walking into glee was...an experience. Sam strode in with his head held high, broad shoulders thrown back and a confident swagger. He pretty much dragged Blaine in as he was holding on to Blaine's hand tightly. In fact, Sam held on to Blaine's hand every chance he got. Blaine rolled his eyes and followed him in, cheeks flushing as the conversation died around them.

_Three guesses as to what they were talking about,_ the curly-haired boy thought, smothering a sigh.

Sam greeted the group cheerfully and went to take his usual seat in the middle row of the risers, but Mercedes' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Uh, hell to the no, White Boy. You think you can just walk on in here and act like you and Frodo didn't drop a bomb on the school yesterday?" She flicked her hair and gave him a scathing glance up and down. "I don't think so."

Santana nodded, narrowing her eyes at him. "Not cool, Trouty Mouth. We're supposed to be your  _friends,_ " she practically purred the word, and the way she looked him up and down was anything but friendly. "You know, if you were  _confused,_ Sammy, all you had to do was say the word and I could have...  _straightened_  you out."

He blinked at her. Was she seriously saying this in front of the guy who, as far as they knew, was his boyfriend? He threw a concerned look over his shoulder at Blaine before turning back to his ex. "I'm not confused, Santana, and you're just making a fool of yourself right now."

"Uh, no, wrong," she spat back, getting out of her seat and stalking over to him, poking him in the chest with a sharp, manicured nail. " _You're_ making a fool of yourself, Lips. This whole 'I'm doing a dude' phase? Embarrassing." She looked Blaine over, a condescending smirk curling her lips before she turned back to the boy she thought of as her property. "And slumming it to boot," she added, making a 'tsk tsk' sound. "You can do better, Sam."

"You do  _not_ get to talk about him that way," he seethed, clenching his fists and grinding his jaw. How on earth had he dated this girl?

"Sam..." Blaine cut in, shaking his head. "Don't. She's only trying to get a rise out of you."

"Bet you know all about  _that_ , hey, Hobbit?" She laughed, but it wasn't good-naturedly.

Kurt snorted as he entered the room with Rachel, catching-up pretty quickly. "Well done, Satan," he applauded sarcastically. "A gay joke. Wow,  _inspired_ , truly."

"Oh, go jump, Lady Hummel. I bet you cried yourself to sleep last night, knowing that your two crushes chose each other rather than you. Tell me, how does it feel to be ditched and dissed like that?"

Though the barb kinda stung, Kurt rolled his eyes and took up position next to Blaine--who was still standing in the centre of the room--grinning up at her as he stretched his arm across Blaine's shoulders. "I don't know, Santana, from where I stand it looks like  _you're_  in a better position to tell  _me_." He winked at Sam. "How  _is_  the dark side treating you, Sam?"

"You know, Samuel," Rachel cut in while Santana slinked away, casting glares in Kurt's direction. "My dads would be more than happy to counsel yourself and Blaine through this new and quite obviously tumultuous time in your relationship."

Sam smiled at her gratefully, walking back down from the risers, deciding that he wanted to sit somewhere different today after all. "We appreciate the offer, Rach, but we're fine. Right, sweetheart?"

Blaine socked him in the shoulder, amusement bleeding through his annoyance. "What was the rule about pet names, Sam?"

"Would you prefer I call you 'dude', then? 'Cos... _ow_!" His other shoulder was now sore. "Okay. Point made.  _Jeez_."

"You two...you're just adorable. Honestly, I don't know how I didn't see it before," Unique sighed, sitting in the front row next to Sugar.

Sam wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist, pulling him closer even while Kurt voiced his displeasure.

"You can't just  _steal_ him like that," the countertenor huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm his boyfriend, dude," Sam shot back, feeling oddly thrilled that he got to say the word again, not that he could tell you why that was, "I can steal him whenever I want."

"Uh, I'm standing right here," Blaine argued, "and don't I get a say in any of this?"

Both boys looked at him, then at each other. "No," they replied in unison.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, okay, as long as we cleared that up..."

Ignoring Blaine's sarcasm, Sam grinned and gave him a pleased shake. "Good boy."

"I'm not a dog, Sam," Blaine sighed, then, as an afterthought. "And you'd better think real carefully about the next thing you say, because I'm more than happy to withdraw your invitation to my place. And I'll tell your Mom."

Sam's eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

"I dare you to try me, Sam."

-?-

Sam found himself grabbed by familiar talon-like hands and dragged into an empty classroom as he walked from his Math class towards English Lit. At least this time she didn't start by ramming her tongue down his throat.

"What, Santana?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"We're worried about you, Boo," Mercedes' voice replied and he almost jumped out of his skin, not having seen her sitting at a desk by the door. "You're dating Blaine?  _Really_? Sam, what is this actually about?"

He frowned. "Yes, really. It's actually about me dating Blaine, funnily enough."

"Do you have any idea how  _wrong_  this is, Trouty Mouth?" Santana shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the rainbow connection and all that goody-goody crap, but that's not for boys like you."

"Boys like me?" He fought to keep his temper. Santana was good at pushing buttons and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

She nodded. "Strong, masculine,  _straight_ boys," she clarified. "Now, Anderson's  _almost_ those things--I've seen him shirtless and I'm not blind--but he's still got that soft, gay boy touch about him."

" _Santana_ ," he growled warningly.

Mercedes moved forward and shook her head, rubbing at his shoulder consolingly. "Seriously, Boo, she's got a point. You're better than this...this... _phase_ you're going through. I mean, seriously, what's gone so wrong for you that you've started chasing boys? Whatever it is, we can fix it."

"It's not a phase, Mercedes," Sam shrugged off her hand, frowning at the implication that something had to be wrong with him to push him into a relationship with Blaine. "Nothing needs to be fixed! And if anyone's better than anyone, it's Blaine that's better than me." He took a deep breath. "And if this intervention of yours is so important, why isn't Quinn joining you? Or any of the others?" He nodded, point made successfully as Mercedes averted her gaze and muttered something about Quinn not agreeing with her.

"Oh spare me," Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes, and avoiding his question entirely. "I don't buy it, Evans. You were  _all_  up on Fabray, Home Girl and me and now suddenly you're all about, what, Anderson's joystick? I don't think so."

Despite knowing that he should just walk away, Sam asked, "Why not? Why is it so hard to believe that I'm into guys as well as girls?"

"Because it just is, Sam!" Mercedes snapped, finding her voice again. "You can't possibly want that."

"Want  _what_  exactly?"

"Dick, Sam." Santana clarified, as if she were explaining the concept to a small child. "You were all hot and bothered about my smokin' bod when we were dating...certain lady parts in particular, if my memory's workin' right...so why should I believe you've gone nuts for, well, nuts? Tell me, Sam, is it as satisfying going dow--"

" _Stop_! Just stop. I can't possibly expect you to understand," he replied, feeling more and more repulsed by the conversation. "And what I do with my boyfriend is none of your business."

She scowled then, closing the gap between them. "Let's get this  _straight_ ," she told him, quirking her lips wickedly. "You'll always be my business, Evans, because you're my property. You wanna go pretend you're not interested in this?" She dragged her hands down her torso suggestively. "You're only making a a joke of yourself. And him."

He frowned and looked at Mercedes. "And you're supporting this insanity why? I mean, if I'm Santana's property, what's in it for you?"

She looked affronted, as though insulted her motivations could be seen as anything other than concerned and platonic. "Because I care about you, Sam. And I'd rather see you have a  _normal_  relationship with Santana than--"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." He held up his hand, shaking his head. "No relationship with Santana is ever  _normal_. And secondly, are you saying that being gay isn't normal? What about Kurt and Wade, Mercedes? Aren't they normal to you?"

"Well, yeah, but that's different. They're different. You're...well, you're a  _real_  guy, Sam, and--"

"They're  _real_  boys, too!" Kurt frequently reminded Blaine of the fact, actually...but that was getting off topic. "Seriously, the fact that I'm more masculine is the only reason you're doing this? Can't you see that this is insane? That you're both sounding crazy?"

"The only crazy person here is you, Lips, and the sooner you realise it and come to your senses, the better." Santana declared and snapped her fingers at Mercedes. "We're outta here," she said, pushing past him and reaching the door, allowing the other girl through first. "Think about it, Sam." She tossed back over her shoulder. "Think real  _hard_. You don't want to be that loser, do you?"

He clenched his fists at his sides as they walked away.

-?-

"Hey, Sam," Artie greeted as he approached the blond in the library: the last place he'd expected anyone to find him.

Sam looked up from his comic book (concealed within an encyclopaedia) and smiled at his gleemate and fellow nerd. "'Sup?" He asked, reaching out for their customary fist bump, making the obligatory 'boom' gesture once their hands made contact.

Artie shrugged and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Not a lot. You know...the usual. School...home...school...one of my best guy friends is suddenly dating a guy..." When Sam's countenance darkened, he rushed on. "Not that that's a  _bad_ thing. It's just a surprise. I mean, I've got nothing against it. Kurt and Wade are my peeps, y'know? But..."

Sam sighed in resignation and leant back in his seat. He'd been expecting this treatment from most of the school, but not his friends in glee. Of all people, he thought they'd be the most accepting. However, his clash with Santana and Mercedes totally proved otherwise, and now there was this. "But  _what_ , man?"

Artie looked across at his friend earnestly. "Are you okay, Sam?"

_Hang on_ , the blond thought with a frown,  _is he saying there's gotta be something wrong with me to date Blaine?_ Were most of the New Directions reading from a script or something? And what the hell was apparently so wrong with Blaine?

"I mean, it's gotta be  _weird_  suddenly being into guys, right?"

"Uh, no. Love is love, right?" Sam wasn't exactly sure how else he could be expected to think. In fact, Artie's question sort of confused him. But Artie wasn't done.

"And, well, you're acting...strangely, I guess."

When Sam didn't automatically reply, Artie wheeled a little closer. "It's just that you've been different this year. Like...last year, when you first arrived, you were all over Quinn and Santana and fought for Quarterback and you were just, I don't know, the perfect all-round American teenaged boy. But this year..." He licked his lips, trying to express himself carefully. "You're different. You're more theatre geek than footballer, you're hanging with Kurt and Rachel--"

"What's wrong with hanging with Kurt and Rachel? And Unique and Blaine and the rest of you guys in glee?" Sam felt as though he was experiencing déjà vu. Hadn't he  _just_  had this conversation? "You're my friends. I'm not allowed to hang with you?"

"I'm not saying that," Artie scrambled to fix the unintentional insult. "But...last year you were more...socially balanced. Last year--"

" _Screw_ last year," Sam hissed, earning himself a cleared throat and deep glare from the librarian. He ducked his head and lowered his voice. "Last year I was stupidly just wanting popularity. This year I've realised that there are things more important than that. I thought you'd get that. I mean, of everyone in glee, I thought you'd understand that the most." When Artie looked back at him in dismay, he shook his head and stood up. "You know what? I'm not justifying this anymore. I'll see you in glee, dude."

He strode out of the library, trying to calm the anger that threatened to boil over, ignoring Artie's calls for him to come back and let him explain. Artie didn't need to explain anything. His position, as far as Sam could see, was perfectly clear.

Thank God tomorrow was a Saturday. He didn't want to deal people who thought they knew better telling him what to do and who he could do it with any longer than he absolutely had to.

-?-

Stevie sat down at his Dad's laptop, dropping his battered notebook onto the space beside it on the desk, flipping to the page that held his scribbled book report draft with a sigh. He hated typing his assignments up; it was time consuming and he didn't understand the necessity for it. If he'd already handwritten a copy, why did he have to write up another one?

But his teacher made a big fuss about making it lega...lige...legi...well, making it easy for her to read, so here he was, about to slave away at the computer like he saw his Dad do fairly often. He'd much rather be watching YouTube videos. He smiled to himself; his friend Joey at school had shown him a really funny one of a guy whose dog had run away from him in a park...it was only a short one, maybe he could pull up the video and watch it before he started typing up his essay?

He glanced around him, checking for any sign that his parents were lurking, before flipping the laptop open and...hey...there was already a YouTube tab open on the screen. What was his Dad watching on YouTube? He figured for someone as responsible as his Dad to be slacking on the website, it had to be good, so he pressed the little play icon.

He recognised the letterman jackets immediately as the same one that Sam wore and he frowned. Was this a video of Sam? He looked closer into the shaking footage and... _yep_ , there was his brother. And Blaine. And...the other boys talking to them looked mean. He turned the sound up. There were other voices around the camera, so he couldn't hear everything that was being said, but... _oh_! Those other guys were not being nice to Blaine.

He smiled as Sam moved around to defend his friend, but couldn't help but be confused when Blaine seemed unimpressed and argued with Sam to let him handle it. But now the other boys were teasing Sam and...wait! Did Sam just say he was Blaine's boyfriend?!

Stevie blinked and moved the footage back a bit, inching the volume up further.

He watched the exchange again and... _yup_ , Sam said he was Blaine's boyfriend.

He knew it! He knew that Sammy and Blaine  _like_  liked each other!

The video kept going, and his eyes widened as he watched his big brother reach out, pull Blaine closer and kiss him, like the same way his Mom and Dad kissed when they thought he wasn't paying attention. A grown up kiss. The other sounds on the video had died down, the entire McKinley High cafeteria taken by surprise.

"Wow," he muttered, "That was cool!" His big brother--and his boyfriend--were YouTube stars! Stevie looked at some of the comments and scowled: there were a lot of mean things being said about the kiss, but he didn't understand why. There were lots of nice comments, too, though, so he guessed that it was like any YouTube video: some people liked it, other people didn't. And some of the comments he just didn't understand...like what was a 'faggot'?

Book report forgotten, he raced out of the office and careened around the house, looking for Stacy. "You gotta come see this!" He exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and tearing her away from her Barbies.

He made her watch the video and rolled his eyes when she scrunched up her nose at the kiss. She was so immature! But then, he guessed she  _was_ only six. He'd thought kissing was icky when he was six, too. Now, well, he understood that grown ups liked to do it, but he still wasn't keen on the idea. It was something he'd probably do when he was old. Like, at  _least_  thirteen. Wow, that was really old! It seemed like  _forever_  away.

"What are you two doing?" His Mom's voice interrupted his thoughts and he spun, guiltily, to find her leaning against the doorframe.

"Why're Sammy and Blaine kissin' on your computer?" Stacy asked without preamble, making another face at the thought of kissing.

And, before Mary could answer, Stevie turned wide, curious eyes on her, "And what's a faggot?"

"Not a word I ever want to hear you repeat," Mary's expression blanked before turning vaguely horrified as she crossed the room and shut down the website. "Why were you watching this?" She countered.

Stevie frowned. "I came to do my book report and it was already open," he said honestly, "does this mean Sam and Blaine are celebrities now? 'Cos they're on YouTube?"

"Not really, Stevie," she sighed, wondering how in the world she was going to explain the situation to her two youngest. Silently she cursed her husband: why he couldn't shut down a website like a normal person, she'd never know.

"So  _why_ are they on YouTube kissing, Mommy?" Stacy asked again, sounding a little more demanding in her curiosity, "If they're not famous peoples,  _why_ \--"

"Because..." Mary cut her daughter off, somewhat exasperated. "Just... _because_."

Stevie didn't look at all convinced that 'because' was an adequate answer. "But--"

"Don't you have a book report to do?" Mary felt a little bad, distracting him so snippily, but she needed to discuss this with Dwight--and Sam--before it went any further.

The little boy sighed, intent on interrogating his big brother later. "Yes, Mom."

-?-

"Sammy!" Stevie hurtled down the hallway, throwing his arms around his brother's waist as the older boy walked through the front door, Blaine in tow.

Sam laughed and ruffled his brother's hair. "Hey, bud, what's up?"

The smaller blond stared curiously up at Blaine first, then back at Sam. "Why is there a video on Dad's computer of you guys kissing at school?"

Blaine's eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink, and he immediately looked to Sam to explain. But Stevie wasn't done and he pinned Blaine with a hard stare.

"Cause you said you weren't Sam's girlfriend."

"I wasn't," Blaine spluttered. "I mean, I'm not."

Arms folded, Stevie arched an eyebrow in startling mimicry of his mother. "Uh huh," he didn't sound convinced. "Then why did Sam tell everyone he's your boyfriend?"

Blaine looked across at Sam beseechingly and Sam, damn him to hell, just smirked and wrapped his arm across Blaine's shoulders.

"Well, bud, Blaine  _wasn't_ my  _boy_ friend when you asked us back then," he clarified, "but he is now."

Blaine rolled his eyes. They were lying to Stevie and Stacy now?  _Really_?

As if reading his mind, Sam leant in close and whispered in Blaine's ear. "Dude, they can't keep a secret for anything. What if one of their friends' big brothers or sisters found out?"

Blaine just nodded. As it was, he was fighting his body's natural reaction to the proximity and the sheer feeling of Sam's breath against his ear and cheek. Honestly, Sam could have whispered the lyrics to a crappy Justin Bieber song and he would have agreed.

Then he blinked, making a mental note to revisit the issue with Sam later. It just didn't sit right with him, lying to such cute kids like Stevie and Stacy. Especially when honesty was espoused in the Evans house.

Stevie was staring at Blaine suspiciously. "You gonna treat my brother good?" He asked.

Stifling a smile, Blaine nodded.

"So...do you and Sam love each other like Mom and Dad? 'Cause Mom says that when two people love each other like that, they make babies." His eyes widened and he looked at Blaine as though the thought hadn't occurred to him until then, "Are you pregnant? Is  _Sammy_?"

"Wait...what? No." Blaine looked back at Sam, who was actually laughing now. "Sam, this isn't funny!"

"Are you kidding? It's  _hilarious_!" Sam chuckled. "Any more questions, squirt?"

Stevie considered this solemnly. "If Blaine's your boyfriend, does that make him my brother? Like how Aunt Sarah is mom's sister because she's dating Uncle Jack?"

"Uh, not yet. Sarah and Jack have been dating for a long, long time," Sam shrugged.

"Oh," the little boy looked crestfallen. "Okay. Maybe soon?"

"Maybe," Sam nodded, ruffling the little blond's hair again.

"Can I take Blaine to 'Show and Tell'? Nobody else's brother is dating another boy."

Sam snorted. "I don't think that's a good enough reason to--"

"Does this mean you only like boys now? Like, are you  _all_  gay because Blaine's all gay? Or are you only half gay because you dated girls last year?"

Sam blinked, the smile starting to slip from his face. "Uh...wait...it doesn't really work like--"

"How does that work, anyway? 'Cos girls and boys are, y'know,  _different_...is dating a boy different to dating a girl?"

Sam was definitely floundering a little now, "Well, kind of, but--"

"Some of the YouTube comments were weird," Stevie was relentless, oblivious to Sam's growing discomfort, "like, there were some bad words 'n stuff, but I understood  _those_ 'cos Timmy's big brother told us about 'em at his birthday party, but there were some things I didn't get."

"Well there's probably a good reason--"

"So maybe you can tell me, 'cos Mom wouldn't," Stevie continued, "what's a faggot?"

Sam's expression froze and he stared, now mortified, at Blaine. Blaine sighed. "I don't want to say 'you did this to yourself', Sam, but..." He shook his head and looked at the little boy. "It's not a nice word, Stevie. It's something mean people call gay people when they want to hurt their feelings."

The smaller blond nodded. "Okay," he said, then, with all the finesse of an eight year-old, turned back to Sam and declared, "Mom was angry we saw the video. Like, almost as angry as when she caught  _you_ watching videos on your computer last week." He tilted his head to the side. "Were  _you_  watching boys kiss, too?"

Blaine coughed and tried not to blush harder at the thought of Sam watching porn... _especially_  gay porn...and decided that that was the end of the conversation. "Hey, Stevie," he cut in, studiously avoiding looking at Sam. "How about we go play Pokemon?"

And, just like that, the younger blond was effectively distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Loki, the pretty one in this partnership (she's the smart one). First of all thank you for reading. It's also really gratifying to know how much our ideas are accepted and please our readers. I'm in the process of moving so it's gonna affect my output but the most that's gonna happen is slow the pace for updating down. We already have the ending, we just have to get there.
> 
> Also, it's canon official. Blaine has a crush on Sam. Phase One of Operation: Blam is complete. Thank you all for your continued support. The Blaine and Sam spin-off is gonna happen people! Keep the faith! Murphy listens to the people, so let him hear the Blam!
> 
> -?-
> 
> And this is TheFauxMe, the apparently not-so-pretty one...hmmm. I know updating is slower, but this is a pretty long chapter as a reward for your patience and continued support for this fic.
> 
> I would like to profusely thank Gotta b writin for his amazing, always insightful assistance with some of the scenes I wrote for this chapter. He was the inspiration and creative muse for a lot of Stevie's dialogue (to the extent that he almost wrote the whole scene for me) and helped out a lot when I got stuck while I was writing Mike. I'm a very lucky lady, people, because I have bothLoki and Gotta b helping with my writing. What I'll do when these talented, intelligent men wake up and realise how irritating I am, I don't know. I just hope it won't happen. Lol


	16. Chapter 16

"Dude," Sam shook his head and flopped back on Blaine's bed, watching with amusement as the other boy rushed around the tiny apartment, gathering his belongings. "I can't believe you're not ready yet. You're usually, like, super-organized or whatever."

It was Saturday morning, but Blaine had a lacrosse game--the first without Lipoff on the team--and Coach wanted the boys on the field bright and early.

Blaine had called Alex the previous evening to inform him that he couldn't come in, and had been surprised and warmed to learn that Alex was closing the shop early so he could watch Blaine play. He knew it shouldn't have surprised him, but Blaine still couldn't help but be surprised by the love and support he was feeling from those in his life. Ranging from Alex to Unique and from the Evans Family back to Kurt, it was a strange but comforting feeling to know that so many people out there were willing to take the place of his family that he had lost. But he couldn't help but hold a special place in his heart for the old shop owner. Sam had joked about the man adopting Blaine as one of his own ("Is it even possible to adopt grandkids?"), laughing at the implication that it would somehow relate him to Lauren Zizes. Blaine hadn't been as amused.

"Shut up," was the lame come back as Blaine dug through his bag in search of a missing sock, crowing triumphantly when he found it. "And don't call me 'dude'."

He wasn't sure why it bugged him, really, only that it did. It was weird. Other guys called him 'dude' and it was fine, but when it was Sam, it rankled. Okay, no one ever really called him 'dude', but the theoretical idea of it didn't seem that unappealing. The boys at Dalton were much too refined to ever utter such a pedestrian term as 'dude', and the guys at McKinley…well…anything that  _didn't_  involve throwing Blaine into some lockers or flushing his homework down the toilet was essentially a proclamation of undying love in comparison to their usual antics.

Sam grinned, completely unrepentant. It was his typical grin that usually preceded an eye roll from Blaine. Blain could practically feel his eyes itching to move in their sockets.

"Aww, what's the matter B? You know it's just my way of showing how much I care," Sam said sweetly while reaching over and gently touching Blaine's elbow. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't show my man how much I loved him? I'm sorry,  _babe_. Don't be mad at me like that."

"Sam," Blaine warned, dragging Sam's name out as his eyes slowly began narrowing.

"Is my big, strong boyfriend nervous about his game? Come to Daddy," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear and patting his lap, "let him make you feel better!"

"If I had something nearby that I didn't need in my bag right now, I'd throw it at you," Blaine said, his glare somehow evident in his voice.

"Come on  _Pookie Bear_ , don't be like th--"

"Penalty of break up," Blaine reminded him with his glare still etched across his features, pointing at the fridge where a hastily scrawled list of their agreed upon Rules was stuck. There it was, in a scratchy handwriting, held fast on the surface by a glaringly tacky apple-shaped magnet: "Rule Six. No pet names."

"I thought that was only in public?" the blond questioned with a confused frown, vastly different from the one on the other boy's face. "Besides, no way would you break up with  _this_ ," he swept an arm over his torso.

Blaine snorted and propped his foot up on the edge of the bed so he could tie his shoe, seeming to give Sam a genuine appraisal before shrugging. "Eh...I've seen better."

"Hey!" Sam's eyes widened, momentarily stung. He was already in the middle of counting the calories he had already eaten that day when he realized that Blaine was just teasing. He reached for the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

"Ass! There's  _nothing_  better than this, and you know it," he said, toying with the hem of his shirt and slowly lifting it up while muttering the lyrics to  _I'm Too Sexy_  and messing them up horribly.

"Your modesty is overwhelming," Blaine drawled, shaking his head, rolling his eyes and trying desperately not to stare at the exposed skin while Sam continued his little show. Honestly, the blond  _was_  hot, but he was still his friend. It wasn't fair to Sam to have those thoughts running through his head. He didn't want to be that gay who secretly fantasized about his straight best friend. He didn't need his life to be the gay version of a Lifetime Original Movie.

And Sam could get any girl he wanted...so why was he wasting his time on this farce of a relationship? It wasn't like  _he_  was getting anything out of it. The thought made Blaine feel even guiltier. For all he knew, Sam had some girl that he was interested in but wasn't able to make a move because he was too busy pretending to be gay.

Blaine switched feet before continuing, this time seriously. "It's not too late to back out though, Sam. I mean, come on, we're both guys...I get that you're putting aside some, uh, you know…some needs of your own while you're helping me out here," Blaine licked his lips. "Not that you're helping me out like  _that_ , I mean..." he trailed off, cursing himself for speaking before thinking.

Sam just laughed and shook his head, letting go of his shirt and letting it fall back down. He missed the look of relief on his friend's face as he answered.

"Aside from Santana who was, and still is, bat-shit crazy and so not worth the effort, I'm not missing out on as much as you'd think. Dating you is kinda like dating Quinn or Mercedes if you really wanna think about my sex life," he teased lightly.

"And I was cool with it then, too," he shrugged. "Besides, this is working, isn't it? I mean, the jocks have backed off, and--"

"You know, I don't actually get why, to be honest." Blaine interrupted, grateful to be off the topic of Sam and sex. He didn't even know why he'd brought it up. There was no reason really, aside from the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes dating. The fact that Sam was sprawled out on his bed like he belonged there had nothing to do with it. No, it wasn't as though Blaine's eyes were traveling down the blonde's flat shirt-covered stomach and resting briefly on the small sliver of creamy skin, temporarily mesmerized by the trail of soft blonde hair that disappeared into his...

_Blaine, focus!_

"Because you're mine now," he heard Sam say matter-of-factly, snapping him out of his thoughts and confusing him. Those really were the worst words Sam could have said at that moment. What were they even talking about? Blaine nervously shifted his bag to cover himself as Sam continued speaking.

"Like, you know, they're backing off because if they messed with you it'd be like messing with one of the other guys' girlfriends. It's just not cool. Take Puck and Zizes, for example. Lauren can hold her own just like you can, but if one of the guys took her on it'd still be wrong, 'cos Puck's one of us, and Lauren's  _his girl_  so that makes her one of us, too. Get it?"

Blaine frowned. "Seriously?" He asked, a little affronted. "So, setting aside the fact that I'm a 'girl' in this scenario, that's still sort of..." he floundered for an adequate word to describe his opinion and came up short, "stupid. I mean, it's like caveman logic."

"They're jocks in small-town Ohio, B. What do you expect? They're not all smart and stuff out here. When we get out into the real world, things'll be different."

Blaine's frown deepened: the thought of leaving Ohio wasn't the lifeline it had once been. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't thrilled about leaving Sam behind, or even Mike or Sugar or Unique. Rachel and Kurt were graduating, and he'd miss them, too, but if he continued on his current path, he'd graduate early sometime the next school year, and if he really busted it, he could get early admittance to some colleges (none of which were his first choices, but still) even sooner.

When he'd started to put together the pieces of his life after the shit hit the fan at Dalton, he thought that his life was pretty much over until he got to college. The rest of his junior year was supposed to be a sort of limbo to shuffle through until he was free of it and he could start again somewhere else, preferably very far away. He had dreamed of traveling to some far away place, possibly New York, Chicago, or LA. He pictured himself renting a tiny studio apartment and immersing himself into theatre and the music scene. He would follow his dreams and do whatever he wanted, no longer burdened by the expectations of his parents and the Anderson name. He was going to be free to do or go wherever he pleased. He had prepared to live the next year and a half of his life with one foot already out the door and his heart somewhere in a bustling metropolis, desperately waiting for the rest of his body to catch up. He had never expected to build a life in Lima, Ohio of all places, and at McKinley High especially.

But strangely enough, he had.

Even without Sam, he had friends at school, and then there was Alex and the regulars at the store that he had gotten to know. Coach Beiste and Ms Pillsbury had sort of become mentors to him; the only adults in the school that he respected. To be fair, Ms Stoger and Mr Clemens were amazing teachers, and even Mrs Pendergast challenged him in class, even though they were non-entities outside it. He could respect them in the classroom and their knowledge of the subject but, unlike Coach Beiste or Ms Pillsbury, they created no rapport with him...or with any student, really. If he was feeling generous, he could allow that they probably did it on purpose so that they wouldn't feel bad about not being able to do anything about the bullying going on at McKinley, though it seemed unlikely.

And if he really wanted to be fair, it wasn't like he was doing anything about it either. He still remembered his initial plan, which was to duck his head and coast by for a year until he could leave. He could hardly blame them for doing the same thing he was going to do. Hypocrisy was a look that suited none. At a time where so much of his life was changing, Blaine was determined not to take on traits and mindsets that he'd rather not have. The fact remained that he was not putting forth much effort to establish long lasting friendships with these teachers that might find them grabbing a drink together one night in the future or desperately clinging to one another as they cried during their seventeenth viewing of  _The Notebook_.

"Uh, earth to Blaine. Come in, Blainers!" Sam was waving a towel in front of Blaine's face. "Where'd you go, B?"

The curly-haired boy shook his head with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Drifted off…and hey! Put that towel back in my bag!"

"Calm down,  _Mom_. I'm just playing with it," Sam argued, annoyed that he was being barked at.

"You're telling me that you won't forget to put it back and I won't be out of luck when I reach into my bag for my towel later on, only to find out that it's not in there and is actually probably sitting on my bed, here at home?" Blaine asked, fixing Sam with a knowing look.

He watched in amusement as Sam's annoyed look morphed into a frown as he begrudgingly placed the towel back into the bag, mumbling something about having already apologized numerous times for doing that the previous week. Blaine smiled and said a quick thank you before zipping up the back and enjoying the returned smile from Sam, their "tense" moment, for them at least, already forgotten.

Sam gave him a shoulder nudge as he strode to the fridge. "We're still running late," he reminded his friend, pulling out two frozen water bottles from the freezer compartment and throwing them to Blaine for him to stash in his gym bag, "and I know how much winning this thing means to you."

Blaine nodded and hurriedly finished gathering his things. The day's game was crucial. If they won, they would make it to the championships. He was well aware that Dalton had an amazing team this year (he should know, he helped put it together and had briefly captained it). There was a very good chance that, if the Titans won tonight, they'd likely face the Dalton Kingfishers in the championships.

Blaine wasn't naive enough to think that winning today would mean that he and his teammates would become friends. It would, however, make it clear that he deserved his spot and that Lipoff was wrong, that they were all wrong for coming down on him. He had initially wanted his teammates to treat him like he was one of them, but when the bullying had started, he'd just wanted for them to leave him alone. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't wish that one day they'd invite him out for pizza or over to one of their houses for a Halo tournament. They might have been asses, but that didn't mean that somewhere deep in his teenage mind, he didn't crave to be accepted, that he didn't miss being being part of the group, one of the boys.

But honestly, all he really wanted was to be able to get out of the shower without finding the entire contents of his gym bag lying in a puddle of water.

 _Speaking of things becoming easier_... He looked over at Sam with a wry smile, still unable to believe that Sam's crazy idea seemed to be working.

It didn't matter  _why_ , really, just that he had somebody on his side. Fake relationship aside, just being able to share the burden was a relief. He didn't think that Sam Evans would ever truly know how much he had helped him, not that he ever would know. Sure, Blaine was grateful, but he could only imagine the weeks of jokes and bragging that those words would bring from the tall, muscular blonde.

He frowned when he remembered that he was supposed to talk to Mr and Mrs Evans tomorrow. They knew about Sam's plan of course--Blaine would never want Sam to lie to his parents--and they weren't exactly keen on the idea. Blaine loved Sam's parents. They were so welcoming and kind to him, much more than his own parents ever were. He was envious of how well the Evans Family got along and was overly paranoid about ever being a cause of tension for them. They were supposed to talk the yesterday, but Sam got a reprieve so that Blaine could focus on the game. Plus he'd argued that Friday would give them a better idea as to whether the plan was actually stupid or not.

Blaine sighed as threw his ankle support into the bag, more out of habit and caution than necessity by this stage, zipping it shut for the hundredth time that day. He didn't know if it would have been better to get that conversation out of the way first or if putting it off for after the game was better, but it was done. The decision had been made. It was time to focus on the game.

"Okay," he told Sam as he cast one last glance around the room, "I think we're good to go."

The blond grinned and slung his arm across Blaine's shoulders, hefting the gym bag over his other side without a second thought. "Lead on, Macduff!" He cried, pointing forward.

Blaine rolled his eyes playfully, debating the merit of correcting Sam's misquote, but decided to leave it, impressed by his friend's enthusiasm.

"Let's kick some Carmel ass!" Sam shouted while pumping his fist in the air.

"I'm pretty sure that's not in the original text," Blaine teased with a smile.

"Whatever," Sam waved him off dismissively. "We're not in school right now. And I'm hot, remember? I don't need to think."

 

-?-

"I'm starting to think this isn't a good idea," Blaine said nervously as he and Sam got out of the car and started to walk up to Sam's house.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, genuinely puzzled, but continued walking up to the front door.

"Meeting with your parents? I mean, talking to them about this..." He stopped walking, forcing Sam to stop and turn around to face him. "I'm worried."

"About what, B?" Sam asked, then broke into a smile. "You have nothing to worry about, my folks love you and you know it."

"They also aren't exactly big fans of this plan," Blaine explained, all his second thoughts rushing back.

"B, we talked about this," Sam approached Blaine and stood beside him, putting one arm around his shoulders and pulling him tightly to his side, Blaine reflexively putting his arm around Sam's waist. "Yeah, the plan is insane but somehow it  _is_  working."

The two started walking again towards the door, or rather Sam started walking towards the door and Blaine was carried along.

"It'll work out, you'll see," Sam reassured him as they reached the front door, but Blaine's face betrayed his anxiety.

They walked into the unusually quiet house. Sam had said that a neighbor had taken Stevie, Stacy and Pearl to the park for the afternoon to give Sam's parents the privacy they needed for this conversation. It had been three days since Sam had dropped the dating bomb at school, and the much-delayed talk with Sam's parents had finally arrived.

Dwight and Mary were in the living room quietly talking when the boys walked in. Mary smiled and Blaine relaxed when he saw it. He was reassured, knowing that whatever was decided that afternoon, it would be all four of them agreeing to it. He could promise himself at least that much; that he would never drive a wedge among the Evans family.

Mary hugged Blaine in greeting and a few minutes were spent settling down and congratulating Blaine on his win the previous night. The Titans had creamed the Carmel Pumas. The extra practice helped and the team had operated like a well-oiled machine (even Coleman finally got it together). From the way they'd played, no one would have guessed that there was any tension among the players. And, better still, Blaine's ankle hadn't even twinged.

With that topic exhausted, a silence descended which no one seemed particularly interested in breaking.

Blaine hated it. He could already feel that this was making things tense. The easy rapport he had with Sam's parents was strained. He could feel their distaste for the situation. He could tell from the looks they kept giving each other that they were trying to find a way to broach it. Blaine hated this tension that he had somehow unwittingly introduced to this family and he opened his mouth to tell them that he was going to end it somehow, when another voice beat him to the punch.

"It's working."

All eyes turned to Sam, who took a deep breath and spoke to his parents directly, almost pleadingly. "This plan of ours is working. People at school are buying it and they're starting to leave Blaine alone."

"The Titans had a big game yesterday," Dwight reasoned, "and everyone knows that Blaine is a key player. Didn't you tell me that, after that other boy was kicked off the team, they pretty much left Blaine alone?"

"They ignored him and made him feel like it was his fault," Sam argued back, shaking his head. "Like, okay, Puck and most of the others let up on Blaine, but they weren't the problem. It was Lipoff and Coleman and Surette. They thought that Blaine was alone and an easy target. Now that they know that we're together he's been more..." Sam looked around searching for a word and then glanced at Blaine for help.

"Cautious," Blaine offered quietly, casting a quick look at Sam.

"Yeah, that's it," Sam nodded and gave Blaine a quick shoulder bump by way of thanks. Seeing that his parents were listening, he hoped that this was good enough and tried to drive home the point and end this positively. "People knowing that Blaine was one of my best friends didn't change anything, but now that they know we're together...well, it'll be like them attacking one of the other guys' girlfriends."

"Think you're together." Dwight corrected.

"Sorry?" Sam asked.

"They  _think_  you're together," Dwight repeated, arching an eyebrow, "you're not actually together, are you? That has always been the issue. Sam, your mother and I aren't questioning the effectiveness of your plan--surprised that it's working, yes and grateful for Blaine's sake--but your mother and I are afraid that lying about this, while obviously helping Blaine out now, will have greater negative consequences in the long run for you two."

"Blaine and I talked about that," Sam huffed a little, drumming his fingers on his knee, "we set up ground rules and everything." And Sam quickly summed up their five rules and grudgingly spoke of the sixth rule when Blaine glared at him.

"Good idea, Blaine," Dwight said with a smile to Blaine who smiled weakly in return.

" _Hey_!"

Dwight cocked his head at his son, silently challenging him to deny his assumption, but Sam only sighed, "Okay, fine, the rules  _were_ his idea."

Everyone chuckled, the byplay releasing the tension that had been building up. Sam was relieved to laugh a bit and let some of that out, but he was still feeling frustrated. He rarely argued with his parents so he was in unfamiliar territory and he was feeling particularly defensive. His parents had always trusted his judgment before or he'd agreed with theirs. For the first time he was fighting hard for something that his parents were not behind one hundred percent. His parents were still resisting the idea and Blaine wasn't helping by sitting there quietly. Didn't he want this?

"Blaine?" Sam started when his mom spoke up for the first time. Mary had been watching Blaine the whole time Sam and Dwight were talking and she could see that Blaine was bothered by something. He met her eyes and she nodded, encouraging him to speak up.

"I don't like that Sam and you are arguing," Blaine confessed with a sigh and a shrug. "But I have to admit that, despite having the game hanging over my head, Friday was the easiest day I've had at McKinley since I got there. I did hide out, but it was more because Sam and I kissed in front of the whole school. I would have done that even if Sam really was my boyfriend," He smiled wryly as he made the admission, took a deep breath and then added, "For the first time I wasn't worried about being shoulder-checked or jumped, well except by the girls because I've seemingly taken Sam off the market; but, ignoring Lauren who's already taken, I can take 'em." He finished, trying to keep the light tone that Dwight had created.

Dwight nodded but Sam could see that he wasn't convinced. His heart fell to his stomach and for the first time in his life he could imagine getting into a fight with his Dad. The thought shocked him, and saved him from saying something he might have regretted. But before Dwight could say anything, Mary placed a hand on his elbow and Dwight immediately calmed. Sam knew that move; it meant that his Mom was going to invent some excuse and leave the room with his Dad to talk. His heart crawled back up slowly; this meant that she'd changed her mind about something.

"I think the coffee is about ready," Mary said, confirming Sam's suspicions. "Dwight, why don't you help me in the kitchen?"

Blaine opened his mouth to offer his help when Sam nudged his shoulder and Blaine settled down. It pleased Sam that they had their own non-verbal signals, too.

"Well you've obviously changed your mind," Dwight said as he started pulling mugs down while Mary readied the coffee pot. "What did I miss?"

"Blaine obviously cares for Sam," Mary said.

Dwight nodded. He'd already known that.

"And Sam cares for Blaine," Mary said.

"Of course he does," Dwight said and couldn't help rolling his eyes, "this whole scheme he cooked up is-- _oh_."

Mary nodded as her husband finally came to the conclusion she'd drawn about the boys. She'd started to suspect what was actually going on when Sam had first told them about declaring himself Blaine's boyfriend, and that had been further cemented at the look of devastation on Sam's face when he'd thought he might have hurt Blaine. But today, sitting across from them, watching the way they bumped knees or shoulders, listening to Sam argue so passionately...she  _knew._

"I don't think Sam knows it yet," Mary said, "and neither does Blaine."  _But Blaine's a smart boy_ , Mary thought,  _and he will figure it out_. However, she suspected that he'd deny it because he wouldn't think that Sam would be interested in him that way.

She sighed. "I think we should let it lie,"She saw Dwight's look of surprise and explained. "Yes, it's deceitful, but the more important issue is that they aren't  _really_ lying to each other," a wry smirk crossed her lips, "consciously, anyway," she amended. "Seriously, though, how different is this if they were really dating? They've created some good ground rules, a better foundation than some 'real' relationships," she added. "And, if we believe them, and it is really helping Blaine...maybe in a few weeks or a few months it might not even be fake anymore."

"You think so?"

"Does Sam dating a boy bother you?"

"Honestly?" Dwight looked up and Mary leaned against the counter while her husband thought about it. "Yes and no, I guess."

He chuckled at Mary's sardonic expression to his vague answer.

"I'm old-fashioned enough to want all my kids to give me grandkids, but I guess with the stuff they have available nowadays Sam can even have biological kids if he wants to," Dwight answered his own argument, much to Mary's amusement. Only her husband would get so far ahead of himself about their seventeen year-old son's high-school dating life. "I guess it's that I know what Sam will be facing. I don't want my son to face those struggles if he doesn't have to." Dwight ended shaking his head. "Not that he's making a conscious choice or anything...I understand that you fall for who you fall for, that it's not something you can choose, but you know it's going to be a harder path for him to travel, no matter how fast society's moving towards equality."

"He's a strong boy who will follow his heart." Mary acknowledged and walked up to her husband. "Like father, like son," she added with a smile and kissed him.

"Apparently more like his mother," Dwight teased with a chuckle while Mary rolled her eyes, putting the mugs of coffee on the tray with the creamer and sugar.

"If we're letting them do this, then I won't treat him any differently like when he was dating girls," Dwight told Mary, picking up the tray and walking back into the living room, letting her precede him.

Dwight was content to let Mary wrap this up. She'd made the call, and he'd agreed to it, so he was going to let her take lead.

Sam and Blaine looked up when they came back. Dwight put the coffee tray down and helped himself to a mug. He was the only one. Sam was looking intently at his mother. Dwight smiled wryly while sipping his coffee; Sam knew them all too well.

"We won't fight you on this," Mary said. Blaine blinked in surprise and Sam's mouth stretched into a grin. "We can see how much this is helping Blaine, but we want some ground rules of our own."

"Of course," Sam agreed eagerly, generous now in victory.

"All your rules stand," she told him, reaching for her own mug, "and we will treat you as if you're in a real relationship," Mary said. "But this whole 'pretending' issue is too difficult for Stevie and Stacy to really understand--never mind their general inability to keep secrets--and explaining high school politics to them can wait. It's one of the harder things you'll have to deal with, but if you've decided to do this then you don't really have a choice."

Blaine was shocked. That pretty much meant that the would have to act out their relationship in the Evans home as well. The only places where they could really be themselves were the Batcave and the Fortress. Okay, so it wasn't as though pretending to date Sam led him to behave much differently than when they were just hanging out as friends, but...it was the principle of the thing.

"No problem, Mom," Sam agreed wholeheartedly, remembering his own encounter with Stevie. Of course, he knew Blaine felt conflicted about lying to the kids, but, as his Mom had even said, it was for their own good.

"I want to make something very clear," Mary's tone was completely serious. "We are not happy with this but I think working with you will help more than fighting you on it." She looked them both in the eyes until they understood and then broke into a smile that she'd obviously passed on to her son.

"Okay then," Mary finished with a shrug, "I guess that's it."

"Great!" Sam said and got up and pulled Blaine to his feet.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Sam looked surprised at his mother's tone. He thought they'd just hashed everything out. "Blaine's?" He said, looking at Blaine who also looked puzzled. "I'm spending the night there, remember?"

"I don't think it's a good idea that you're spending the night with your boyfriend unsupervised."

Sam gaped at his mother. "Wait...what?"

Dwight nodded. "I think your mother is right. We would never let you spend the night with Quinn, why should we let you spend the night with Blaine?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "'Cos, Dad, we aren't really dating?"

Dwight's expression didn't change as he responded. "You'll find, Sam, that this falls under the heading 'Treating You as if You are in a Real Relationship'."

Sam's eyes widened, sensing that his plans had well and truly been shattered, his mother clearly backing his father up if her nodding was anything to go by.

Dwight shook his head, exasperated. "We had this conversation when you started dating Quinn, remember? The same thing applies here. I will ask you now what I asked you then when you asked about that overnight trip to the Fabray lake house. What kind of message is it sending Stevie and Stacy--who are going to think this is real--if I let you go sleep over with your boyfriend?"

Blaine was blushing. "Your Dad makes a valid point, Sam," he said, ever the peace keeper, "you should probably stay here and--"

Struggling to maintain his calm, Sam frowned at his parents, ignoring the fact that Blaine had spoken. "You know this is crazy," he cut in. "I've stayed over at Blaine's  _heaps_  of times and you were fine with it. We might've been messing around then, too." His tone was borderline snide. "How do you know we weren't?"

"We can't know that, Sam, and that's not the issue right now," Mary sighed, not sure how to deal with this volatile version of her son. It wasn't like him at all, and more than ever it confirmed her suspicions that his feelings for Blaine ran deeper than either of them suspected. But, if he was going to behave as he was, she was going to put her foot down, too. "But now that you've chosen to make it an issue, it is. Your father's right; we never let you stay at Quinn's, Santana's or Mercedes', why should Blaine be any different? If you want to play this like it's real, you have to live by the real rules."

Sam grit his teeth. "Fine." He grabbed for his jacket angrily. "Come on, B. I'll take you home. As long as that's  _in the rules_." He spat the last bit facetiously.

"Sam, you can't speak to us--" the blond stormed out of the room, ignoring his father, "that way." Dwight finished with a sigh.

Blaine was torn. He looked at Mary and Dwight apologetically. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling that this was somehow his fault. After all, if he hadn't agreed to this insanity, Sam wouldn't be arguing with his parents.

Mary moved to reassure him, but Sam's voice snapped from the open front door, " _Blaine_! Come  _on_!"

The ride back to Blaine's was tense, with Sam complaining about the nerve of his parents.

"Sam," he started as they turned onto his street, stopping at the first of two sets of lights before his building. "Why don't we just drop the act, then? I don't like causing trouble between you and your parents and--"

" _They're_  the ones causing trouble," the blond insisted with what Blaine thought was an adorable pout. Then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. "You didn't have to agree with them, though."

"But it made sense."

"No, you were agreeing because that's what you do, Blaine!" With his parents no longer in sight, Sam's frustration turned on his friend. "You're always  _so_  determined to be the perfect, dapper little house guest! Sucking up to my parents  _all_  the time!"

Blaine no longer felt that Sam was adorable. In fact, he suddenly wanted nothing to do with this version of the blond. "That's not fair, Sam."

"No, you know what's not fair?" Sam clenched his fingers over the steering wheel as he drove, glaring at the road ahead. "You gave me so much shit when you first got to McKinley, even though I was just trying to be nice, but for everyone else you're happy to smile and play along with whatever they say."

The dark haired boy blinked as he stared at his friend. "We both know that's not true," he replied, pushing the sting of Sam's words away. "And I thought we agreed to forgive and forget all that?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe I lied. Maybe I don't care about what you want."

Blaine took a deep breath. "Be careful," he warned, trying to maintain his calm, well aware that Sam was just venting and didn't actually mean to be hurtful, "before you say something you'll regret."

They were in front of Blaine's building now, and Sam roughly threw the car into park and swiveled in his seat to sneer, "Isn't that  _your_ department? Isn't that why your friends at Dalton ditched you?" Sam's eyes widened at the same time Blaine's did, and he knew he'd pushed too far. "Wait, B, I didn't mean--"

But it was too late. Blaine was out of the car, slamming the door in his wake. Sam hit the dashboard in front of him. "Shit!" He sat there a moment longer, contemplating chasing after his friend, but knew that wasn't his best option at the moment. Instead, he turned the ignition back over and made his way home, planning on apologizing to his parents first, feeling like a grade-A idiot.

He arrived home and trudged through the door, approaching the lounge room sheepishly. His parents, seated across from each other, stopped talking and looked at him with equal measures of expectation and weariness.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, never having been in a position like this before. This was the first time he'd ever really behaved that way with his parents and he knew he was in the wrong. He'd given it a lot of thought on the drive back from Blaine's and had realized that they were just trying to help him make this whole thing more convincing. And, instead of snapping at them, he should have sat down and tried to rationally discuss it with them. So he apologized and explained this all to them, fidgeting as he waited for their response.

"Sam," Mary sighed, patting the couch cushion beside her, "come sit."

He did as told, still looking at the floor rather than meeting either of his parents' gazes.

"Sam, look at me," she instructed him, smiling softly when he did. "Your apology is accepted. I'm glad you gave it some thought and realized what you should have done instead."

He nodded. "I feel stupid," he admitted quietly. "That wasn't like me at all, huh?"

Mary and Dwight shared a look; they'd discussed just how frequently Sam's behavior changed when it came to Blaine Anderson, and neither knew quite how to raise the topic with their eldest son. Dwight licked his lips and pinned Sam with a knowing stare.

"You tend to do that a lot when it comes to Blaine," he said, mind going back to their discussion about Sam's altercation with that Puckerman boy, then again to their first argument about the sham relationship, and to the talk he and Mary had only just had in the kitchen.

Sam blushed and looked back at his feet.

"Sam," it was Dwight's turn to sigh, "I want you to stop and think about why, okay? You don't need to say anything to us now. Not until you've sorted out your thoughts. But, if you need someone to talk it through with--"

Sam wasn't sure what his Dad was actually getting at, but he  _did_ want to discuss just how badly he'd screwed up with Blaine this evening. "I, um, I messed up," he confessed.

"What happened?" His mother asked, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

He averted his gaze, "I snapped at Blaine," he admitted with a sigh. "I was still frustrated with you and I took it out on him. I said...well, I said a lot that I didn't mean, but I said something kinda shi...er  _mean_  about the guys from Dalton ditching him for a reason."

Dwight frowned while Mary shook her head. "Sam, are you sure you're up to this? Being friends and being boyfriends are two different things. Can your relationship survive this?"

"Hey! Me acting like a dou...er,  _tool_  has nothing to do with that. I was just an idiot." He turned pleading eyes on his mother. "What should I do?"

"Well," she considered, "you have to apologize but I think it's best if you do it in person, not via text message or Facebook or whatever it is you kids talk on these days. And," she added, "I think it's best you wait until tomorrow, give yourselves some time to cool down first."

Sam nodded; it made sense. He didn't really want to go to bed without at least calling Blaine and saying sorry, but he knew that he was still a little on edge and there was a chance that he'd continue to make the situation worse rather than better.

But later, as Sam stared up at the crack in his bedroom's ceiling, he realized that he couldn't fall asleep because he still felt guilty and the only way to assuage his guilt would be to apologize. But his mother was right; he couldn't apologize over the phone or via text, because that would be too impersonal.

So where did that leave him? He could lie here awake in bed until it was time to get up and go to school...or he could sneak out of bed, climb out the bedroom window (to avoid the creaky floorboards in the hall) and apologize to Blaine now.

Despite knowing that his parents would likely kill him for disobeying them and, worse still, sneaking out in the dead of night, Sam chose the latter. He pulled a pair of jeans on, tugged a loose t-shirt over his chest (after sniffing it first), snagged his trusty denim jacket (frayed as it was), grabbed his wallet and car keys from his desk and slid out of his window, landing on the lawn below with a dull thud. He stood up straight, straining his ears for any sounds that his parents--or Pearl--had heard him, then padded down the backyard, vaulted over the waist-high fence, and moved as quietly as possible to the car.

He was super proud of his stealthiness; creeping through the darkness, he almost convinced himself he was a ninja, or a secret agent on an impossible mission, but his anxiety to get to Blaine and fix his mess overrode his powers of imagination.

He started the car and reversed out of the drive without lights, only turning them on once he'd maneuvered onto the street.

He praised himself for his valiant escape, proud that he'd managed to leave without his parents waking and catching him.

 

-?-

Blaine stumbled the few steps from his bed to the door, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up. " _Sam_? What are you--it's almost  _one_  in the morning."

He could see from Sam's expression that he was sorry but, right now, Blaine really couldn't give a damn. He knew Sam hadn't meant to be so mean, that'd he'd only been letting off steam, but the words  _had_  hurt and he wasn't going to let another friend walk all over him whenever it suited.

"Rule Three," Sam mumbled, his eyes pleading for Blaine to understand.

"What?" It was the middle of the night and he had no idea what the blond was getting at.

"Rule Three," Sam repeated. He took a deep breath and continued, "'We both have to keep our lines of communication open. We have to make sure we talk to each other at the end of the day or first thing in the morning'. I didn't want to wait until tomorrow to talk to you and tell you how sorry I am and how stupid what I said was."

"Sam..."

"Rule Three, Blaine," Sam practically begged. "We're not supposed to let misunderstandings get in the way of our friendship.  _Please_."

Blaine sighed and stepped aside, gesturing for Sam to come in. It was pretty cold out.

Blaine sat on the bed as Sam paced the length of it, clearly agitated.

"B," he started, "I'm so sorry. I was a douche. What I said was awful, and I only said it to get to you...I didn't mean it and I regretted it the second I said it."

"You do that a lot," Blaine said.

Sam stopped pacing and looked remorsefully at his friend. Blaine sighed and patted the space beside him. Sam complied, frowning when Blaine shifted to face him because the move put distance between them.

"You act so impulsively Sam," Blaine shook his head. "And I know you don't mean to, but people get caught in the crossfire when you do these things without thinking them through."

"You especially," Sam admitted, his voice low.

"Well, my life was never this complicated at Dalton," Blaine said lightly, trying to elicit a smile from the other boy.

But Sam remained sullen. "Except when your friends turned on you and hung you out to dry."

"Sam--" He reached out, but Sam pulled back.

"Do you forgive me?"

Blaine rolled his eyes; why else would he have let the blond in at one AM in the first place? "Yes."

Relieved, Sam let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "But," he heard Blaine say and suddenly it was hard to breathe again, "I'm not anyone's punching bag, Sam. You can't take stuff out on me if I'm not the one responsible for it. Deal?"

"Deal," Sam said, "but you have to promise something in return."

"What's that?"

"You gotta stop second-guessing me," Sam said, letting a little of his frustration show. "I'm here for you, B. And I get that you're not one hundred percent sure of the plan, or whatever, but if you're not going to tell me what's really going on in your head," because he was well aware that his friend was withholding  _something_  from him, though he knew Blaine well enough not to push him, "then you have to trust me."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, then thought better and closed it. There was no point rehashing their original argument, no matter how right he thought he'd been. And he wasn't at all ready to tell Sam that he thought the plan was only going to make his crush worse, so he nodded. "Okay."

"You don't have to agree with all my decisions but you have to trust me," Sam reiterated.

"And we won't argue in public," Blaine added. "We'll do what your parents do, and have our disagreements in private."

"You saw that, huh?" Sam grinned when Blaine smiled in response. "You said it yourself, B," Sam said, "it's confusing enough as it is. We should always know where we stand with each other. No doubts."

"No doubts," Blaine agreed.

"Hug it out?" Sam asked, opening his arms. When Blaine hugged him, Sam held him tight, letting go of his fear that he may have lost his friend over something stupid.

 

-?-

Sam sighed in relief as he closed his window shut. He was midway through shrugging off his jacket when he noticed the figure standing in the doorway of his room. He bit off what would have been an embarrassingly girly shriek when he recognized his Dad, but it was a near thing.

Hand clutched to his chest, he stumbled over a pair of shoes in his mild Dad-induced panic. "Holy cr...ud," he finished lamely, trying to get his heart rate to slow the hell down, "You totally scared the he...ck out of me." Which, okay, was probably a stupid thing to say, given that he'd just been caught climbing into his window. He wondered, idly, how slow and painful his death would be, and whether he'd have time to send an SOS out to Blaine...

"You and Blaine work it out?" Dwight asked calmly as he stepped into the room, making Sam even more twitchy. Why wasn't his Dad yelling? Yelling was better. Not that he'd really ever given his Dad much reason to yell before...

"How did you...when, um, yes." Sam finally replied.

"Good," Dwight said, then smiled at his son. "I know that if it was me, I'd do the same thing. Besides, wasn't one of your rules about not going to bed angry or something?"

"Rule Three," Sam acknowledged slowly, eyeing his Dad cautiously, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "We're supposed to make sure that we clear up any misunderstandings or whatever before we go to bed or first thing in the morning." Sam shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"Like I said, Son," Dwight reassured him, "I would have done the same thing. I just wanted to make sure you got in." There was a pause. "I  _should_ be angry that you disobeyed us and sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night," the elder Evans man sighed, "but I was your age once, and I would have done the same damn thing." He made a mental note to add a quarter to the Swear Jar. "So, as long as your mother doesn't find out, we'll let it slide this once. You do it again..." He trailed off, the unspoken threat of consequences hanging in the air between them.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized hanging his head. It was really late, or rather, pretty early in the morning and his father always had an early start for work. But Dwight just shrugged and, instead of leaving, sat on Sam's bed. Sam put his jacket on the back of his chair and joined him.

"Did you think I was going to stay at Blaine's?" Sam asked, genuinely curious. Because he'd been tempted to, the idea of rebelling against his parents both thrilling and terrifying all at once. Blaine had talked him out of it, though, more or less shoving him out the door and warning him to drive safely.

"Sam," Dwight shook his head, "you have never given us any reason to doubt you. You may have done some things we aren't happy with, but you haven't done anything to make us think we couldn't trust you. This one incident aside, of course."

Sam released a breath. He didn't realize until now how afraid he was of losing his parents' respect. This was the first time he had ever challenged them and he was on new ground.

"Now that we've calmed down, can you give me another reason why we should allow you to stay over at Blaine's?" Dwight asked and saw Sam's eyes widen in surprise. He rolled his own eyes. "When have we ever given you the impression that we couldn't be reasoned with? You gave us a poorly thought-out excuse and then stamped your foot when it was rejected. It obviously means a lot to you, I don't even remember this issue coming up after we said 'no' to the lake house."

Sam looked down at his feet and blushed, knowing that he had behaved really badly earlier. And blushed even harder knowing his father could see him flushed to his ear tips. He focused on why it was important that he be allowed to stay over at Blaine's, and why it was different with Blaine than it was with Quinn and the others (aside from the obvious). It felt so clear to him, but apparently it wasn't to everyone else, so he had to find a way to say it. That turned out to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"Blaine  _is_  different from Quinn, Mercedes and Santana," Sam began, "not because it's not a 'real' relationship, or, okay, let's say that it  _was_  real and say we  _were_  fooling around," Sam's thoughts ground to a halt after the phrase, leaving him momentarily distracted by its meaning and implications. Before he allowed himself to be taken in by the idea, he had already recovered and was moving on to the rest of his original thought, "and I could argue that neither of us can get pregnant...but that isn't what makes it different." Because he'd spoken to his Dad when he'd lost his virginity and he'd been given the safety first lecture, but had never been told that he wasn't allowed to have sex, so that was a moot point, right? "The difference is that Blaine  _is_  my friend and was my friend first. We have a relationship outside of dating, whether or not it's real--"

"Sam," Dwight interrupted, "let's work on the assumption that Blaine is your boyfriend and that you're asking for an exemption for the staying over part because otherwise we'll be here all night...well, morning now. I do have to work tomorrow... _er_ , later."

Sam grinned an apology at his father, gathered his thoughts and continued.

"Okay, the thing is, the Fortr--uh,  _Blaine's apartment_  is a place of refuge. It's a place where we can be ourselves and relax. We can't do that anywhere else, I mean since we have to act like we're together here as well, which I totally understand and agree with by the way, but we need to do the things we did as Sam and Blaine before this started because we're those people, too."

And, alright, it wouldn't look any different to Stevie and Stacy if he and Blaine were their usual goofy selves here at home, but Sam figured it would feel different, like it was all just a part of the act, but he wasn't sure he could express that properly without sounding kinda crazy.

But, surprisingly, Dwight nodded and Sam took heart that his father seemed to understand anyway.

"We're friends, too, not just boyfriends," Dwight's mouth turned up wryly when he saw that Sam was able to say that word without stumbling, like it was the most natural thing in the world, "and we gotta do best friend stuff, too."

Sam took his father's obvious amusement as encouragement and continued.

"The thing is, we really aren't together, so we  _wouldn't_  be doing the things I think I would have been tempted to had this situation been with the girls. And," Sam swallowed guiltily, "despite my recent behavior, I think I've kinda earned the trust to hang out with Blaine, boyfriend or not, at his place? And this is  _Blaine_  we're talking about! Even if we were really together do you think he'd really... _y'know_?"

 _He's a teenage boy,_  Dwight thought, as though that was answer enough. But Sam was right: ultimately that  _was_  irrelevant. "Okay."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked confused.

"Okay," Dwight repeated, getting up.

"I'm confused," Sam said.

"You convinced me," Dwight said turning from the doorway and looking at his son with a smile on his face. "All your points are valid and, yes, despite your behavior earlier, you  _have_ earned your mother's and my trust. But," here he smirked, "I was a teenager once, too, and I doubt, dapper though he is, that your Blaine would have as much impulse control as you'd like to believe." He laughed at Sam's scandalized expression, before turning serious once more. "Honestly, though, don't you think that if you hadn't let  _your_  impulses get the better of you earlier and had thought this through--like we asked you to--we could have avoided a lot of drama tonight?"

Sam flushed again in embarrassment. "Yes, sir," he agreed. "I'm really sorry, Dad. Blaine brought it up, too. I promise to do better about that."

"Okay, good night, Son," Dwight walked back into the hallway.

Sam rushed to his doorway and confirmed, "So I can stay over at Blaine's?"

" _Yes_ , Sam," Dwight said exasperatedly without even looking back. "Just let us know before like always."

"Thanks Pops!" Sam said cheerily as his father walked into his room shaking his head and Sam happily closed his own door.

He fell into bed exhausted but with a smile on his face. Things were definitely looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Loki) - Apologies for the long wait. I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say RL got in the way and is getting in the way but my partner (the smart one) and I (the pretty one, just making sure you're all still following) are working out the details. It has delayed the release of this chapter. She found something wrong with it and fortunately I let her have a crack at rewriting it. Thank Blam for it because the first revision showed all the flaws. Thanks to gotta b writin for swooping in and helping in at a crisis point (he's the dashing one) so go show him some love. Thank you for your patience and for all the lovely reviews, we really do read them all.
> 
> (FauxMe) - Okay, I'm just going to flat out echo Loki's sentiments and profusely thank gotta B writin for his help with this chapter. He even rewrote a large portion of the first scene and offered a lot of suggestions to clean up the rest. So, for those of you unaware of his work, I can't recommend "We Love, We Lose, We Start Again" anywhere near enough. I think you'll become an addict just like me. As Loki said, he's definitely the dashing one, riding in on a noble steed and saving the day, and I'm totally writing-smitten...there's definitely a little writing-crush developing here. But SHHHH! That'll be our little secret, okay? No need to go telling him (or my writing-husband, for that matter) that I said that. *wink*
> 
> Now, onward to chapter 16. May it be well worth the wait.


	17. Chapter 17

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Blaine muttered, tugging uncharacteristically at his tie. "It's insane, Sam."

Sam shook his head, a small smirk of amusement on his lips. "You keep saying that about everything I suggest lately," Sam said with a playful scowl. "Are you saying something about my state of mind, Mr Anderson?"

Blaine snorted, "Well if I am, it doesn't say much about me since I'm 'dating' you, does it?"

"Hey," Sam said carefully but firmly pulling Blaine's hands from fidgeting with his tie, "that's my boyfriend you're talking trash about." Blaine rolled his eyes but Sam knew he got him when he saw the smile threatening to break out. He tried to reassure him again. "We go out together a lot, B. This isn't any different."

They were at Breadstix, naturally.

"Not any...?! Sam. This is a  _date_. You've brought me to an Italian restaurant on a date. You're all dressed up, when you'd normally be in jeans and a t-shirt because  _you_ wanted this to look like a special date. How are you okay with this?"

It had all started when Unique and Kurt had baled them up after that first glee session following Sam's declaration.

"So, Sam," Unique had begun, looping her arm through Sam's while Kurt did the same with Blaine. "Now that you're out and proud and fabulous--"

"But not as fabulous as us," Kurt had cut in.

Unique nodded, "But not as fabulous as  _me_ ," she'd ignored the glower thrown her way. "Are you going to treat our Blaineyboo right?"

Sam had bristled. What kind of a question was that? But, before he could pull his arm away and defend his chivalrous nature, Kurt had rolled his eyes and continued to explain.

"What my tactless friend here is trying to ask--" he'd said before being interrupted.

"Direct," Unique corrected. When Kurt had glared at her for interrupting, Unique shrugged, "I'm keeping it real."

Kurt had tilted his head in acknowledgement but narrowed his eyes promising dire consequences if he was interrupted again. "Samuel, sweetie,  _when_  are you going to take our boy out on the town, show him off like he so desperately deserves? I mean, haveyou  _seen_  your boyfriend? It's a crime to keep a piece of eye candy like him hidden away in whatever--admittedly endearing--nerd-cave you spend all your time in."

"Um," Blaine had begun, blushing, "I'm right here, guys."

"Hush, honey," Kurt had squeezed his bicep, then repeated the action simply because he could, sighing a little, "we're helping you here."

"But I don't need--"

"What? You don't need this strong, handsome, blond man taking you out and showing you a good time? Sweetheart, don't  _lie,_ we're all boys here," Unique had told him, reaching over and smacking Kurt--hard--when he'd scoffed.

"Look, guys, we're fine as it is. We do our own thing and...no, Kurt, get your mind out of the gutter," Blaine had shot Sam an exasperated look, "Sam doesn't need to take me out to dinner for him to show how he feels about me, or vice-versa."

"Blaine, sweetie, I thought you were supposed to be a genius?" Kurt had shaken his head.

"Book smart, obviously Kurt," Unique said as she  _tsked-tsked_  from beside Kurt. "But his dating smarts are obviously lacking."

"Agreed," Kurt put in then turned his full-focus back on Blaine and spoke to him like he was a very small child. "It's not about him showing  _you_ anything. It's about him showing you  _off._ "

"Mmm-hmm," Unique had nodded then turned to Sam. "There are a lot of ladies in this town who are probably in denial about your latest squeeze. You wanna show these girls that you, and your hot little boy toy--"

"'Little'?"

"Your height, sweetie," Kurt had patted Blaine's back consolingly, "but if you want to illustrate just how  _not_  little you are--"

" _Kurt_!" Sam had then snapped in defence of his boyfriend, folding his arms across his chest, not noticing the expression of pleasant surprise on Blaine's face. "Not a chance."

"Spoil sport."

Blaine had frowned, ignoring the last of their exchange, focusing on the real topic at hand. "But it's nobody's business," he'd argued, already seeing the cogs turning in Sam's head. "We don't  _have_  to make a point. Sam, you said it yourself, we're cool as it is. We do our own thing. What does it matter if other people accept it or not?"

Sam, meanwhile, had looked at Unique then nodded in understanding and looked over at Blaine. "Because, B, they won't leave us alone otherwise. You heard Santana; apparently I'm just 'confused' and I need to be 'straightened' out. I know this is real, and so do you," he drove on pointedly, "but, unless we want to put up with their crap everyday, we do have to prove it to them."

"Exactly! See, Sam, you're bright when you want to be!" Unique had said clapping her hands.

Blaine had realized that his arguments had fallen on deaf ears and Sam, determined to cement the charade, had told him that he'd take him to Breadstix that Friday night.

And so here they were, seated in a booth, having what Blaine thought was the most awkward dinner of their friendship so far.

"I'm okay with this," Sam replied to his earlier question, sounding vaguely hurt (and Blaine immediately felt guilty). "No letting this change us, remember? And it  _is_  just us, B. I mean, I get that people from school are watching," it  _was_  Breadstix on a Friday night after all, "but it's still just you and me, having dinner like we've done a billion times before."

 _Damn it, Sam_ , Blaine thought, feeling himself melt a little at the earnest way Sam spoke.  _Why do you have to be so perfect?_ It was making it really difficult for him to control his crush. He sighed and looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry. You're right. If anything, you should be the one freaking, not me."

Sam reached across the table, pulling Blaine's hand up on to the smooth laminate surface and squeezing. "I'm showing off my boyfriend, B," he teased. "What's there to freak over?"

Blaine swallowed as his heart flip-flopped, and he forced himself to roll his eyes and banter back...  _What indeed_. This was going to kill him.

By the time their waitress came to take their orders, though, Blaine had relaxed marginally. If he thought of this as just hanging out with his friend, and ignored the occasional brush of Sam's fingers over his own ("Keeping up appearances, B."), he could almost convince himself that it was just a nice, platonic evening out. He ordered his favourite risotto with extra parmesan, and rolled his eyes when Sam tried to order a salad.

"Sam, no. No salad. It's a date, remember? Salads are boring."

The blond frowned at him. "But, my calorie intake--"

"For once, Sam, live a little. One night of indulgence won't kill you." Blaine turned back to the waitress, giving the menu one last glance before snapping it shut and handing it to her with a smile. "He'll have the fettuccine primavera." He was marginally annoyed by the appraising stare she was giving Sam, but he'd been raised to be polite. Besides, he couldn't blame her for looking. It just seemed a bit rude considering he and the blond were clearly on a date. But Sam, so focused on his role as doting boyfriend, was adorably oblivious to the waitress' attention anyway.

"When I lose my abs, B, you'll have nobody to blame but yourself," Sam huffed.

"I think I can live with it," Blaine's lip curled into a smile.

Unfortunately, Sam continued the discussion, smirking teasingly as he leaned back into his seat. "Of course," he said, and to Blaine it sounded like a purr, the sound going straight to his mental spank-bank (and he hated himself for it, but it was impossible  _not_  to be turned on by the blond), "you could always help me work it off later."

"What?" Blaine choked, swallowing convulsively and forcing himself to think of other--less enticing--things, his blood flow warring between heating his face or tightening his slacks.

Was Sam honestly propositioning him?

"At the gym." Sam clarified, completely oblivious to Blaine's discomfort. "We could go box or...are you okay?"

Blaine could feel his cheeks heating up and nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just warm in here. Are you warm? I'm warm." He fanned himself with a napkin and reached for his glass of water, guzzling the beverage down until he had calmed himself.

Sam seemed to believe that and nodded his own agreement, shrugging off his jacket. "Yeah, it is. I mean, it's pretty cold out, so someone probably turned up the thermostat."

Blaine was now faced with a Sam wearing one less layer of clothing; the crisp white shirt clinging to his biceps and highlighting his perfect light tan. Blaine shifted in his seat and wondered whether he was going to make it out of this date alive.

"This  _is_  nice, right?" Sam asked, seemingly from out of nowhere, and the minute traces of insecurity in his tone were enough to distract Blaine from his thoughts. "I mean, you're enjoying yourself?"

They hadn't been there for long, really, barely enough time to snack on a few of the complimentary breadsticks and order their meals, but, once he'd passed his initial freak out, Blaine  _had_  found the experience pleasant enough...until Sam started making unintentionally suggestive comments and stripping, anyway. He smiled reassuringly. "Of course I am," he nodded, happy to see Sam's expression melt back into a smile.

"Good," the blond said, "I am, too."

Dinner turned out to be pretty good, all things considered. It wasn't exactly haute cuisine, but, considering their budget, the food was filling and relatively tasty, and the setting was more romantic than a McDonald's would have been. Blaine had even dared to steal a sample of Sam's meal when he'd thought the blond was distracted, only to find a forkful of his risotto being nabbed from his own plate. They'd teased and laughed together so naturally that Blaine was almost convinced it was a real date...but that was wishful thinking, wasn't it? Really, it just proved how comfortable they were as friends, nothing more. And that was good. Better than good...it was great.

"Dessert?" Blaine asked hopefully, batting his lashes at Sam, eliciting a laugh.

"Seriously, B? You just made me eat a plate of carbs. My diet--" Sam stopped himself at Blaine's glower and sighed. "We'll split dessert?" He compromised, ignoring the way his stomach somersaulted at Blaine's answering smile.

Blaine regretted talking Sam into splitting a serving of chocolate mousse the second he watched the blond take a mouthful and moan appreciatively. Did Sam have any idea how inappropriate he sounded? Not to mention  _looked_?

 _Oh, dear God,_  he was going for a second spoonful.

Blaine's mouth was dry and his thoughts filthy as he watched Sam's lips part over the spoon and then close, the blond's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his moan just as suggestive as it had been before, his tongue sneaking out to catch any remnants of the dessert left on his lips.

 _Sonofa--_ Blaine made a strangled sound at the back of his throat and looked away, well aware of the effect Sam's innocent (but oh so suggestive) actions were having on him. He was right: this date might kill him yet.

"Hey...you're not eating," Sam complained, nudging Blaine's foot under the table. He dipped his spoon back into the confection and leaned across the table, bringing it to the dark-haired boy's lips. "Open wide, babe."

Blaine stared at him, torn between amusement, horror and lust, but complied without argument, despite feeling utterly ridiculous being spoon fed in public.

The mousse was decadent, and he could understand Sam's reaction now, but the flavour fell away in preference of watching the other boy smile at him. He wanted to kick himself, because crushing on a friend--especially his straight best friend--was not at all a good idea. But then the spoon was back, and he was eating more mousse, and Sam seemed to be enjoying force feeding him  _way_ too much, if the smug grin on his face was anything to go by.

"Don't look so proud of yourself," he finally managed to mutter, reaching for his own spoon and batting Sam's away.

Sam sat back with a sigh, his smile still in place. "I just shared a romantic dinner with my boyfriend, " he countered, "so why wouldn't I be proud?"

Blaine floundered for a reply and settled for rolling his eyes and gesturing at the plate that sat between them. "Are you going to help me finish this or not?"

Of course, when Sam shifted forward and resumed eating the dessert, Blaine considered strangling himself for choosing the one distraction that would make things harder--pun completely intended--for him. But Sam was thankfully oblivious and, spoon to his own mouth, looked at Blaine expectantly. "What about you? You are enjoying this, right?"

"Yeah," he managed, clearing his throat and trying to force his thoughts back into something more platonic, "yeah, I am."

-?-

The novelty of Blaine and Sam dating blew over, for the most part, after a week. The gossip mongers moved on to new things--some girl on the swim team was caught with the coach of an opposing team at a recent meet--and, more surprisingly still, Sam's plan still appeared to be working. Blaine hated to admit that Sam had been right. Not because he lost an argument with Sam, but because the idea that he was now "safe" to be around because he had a boyfriend was so ridiculously  _insane_.

However with the harassment easing off, Blaine's stress levels dropped on their own and he found it easier to manage his various commitments. Even Mary and Dwight treated them as they always had. Blaine had been really worried that things would become awkward but things quickly went back to routine...well, aside from having his best friend making moves on him at school for the sake of appearances.

The blond actually took his role as boyfriend (fake or real, it didn't matter to him) extremely seriously and made sure Blaine took proper care of himself. It didn't matter that Blaine's ankle was completely healed up, Sam still forced him to wear his ankle support for every lacrosse training session and each and every rehearsal for the musical, so by the time opening night rolled around, Tony was dancing flawlessly and without pain.

Sam sneaked out into the audience with Mike during intermission (they both 'died' in Act 1 and it made no sense for them to stay backstage for the second half of the play, no matter how much Rachel insisted it was professional behaviour to do so) and found seats near their parents, glad to find Mike's Mom sitting with Mary and Dwight. After receiving hugs and accolades, they settled in and watched their friends finish out the play.

Sam was blown away by how amazing Blaine was under the spotlight. He'd known his best friend was talented--he'd watched him rehearse for weeks--but actually seeing him in front of a packed auditorium, in costume and makeup, under the lights and with a complete school orchestra backing him...it was something else. The same could, of course, be said for everyone else on the stage, but Sam's focus was constantly drawn to Blaine. Only it wasn't Blaine; it was  _Tony_. He had a different voice, different mannerisms...it was as if another person had put on Blaine's skin and just borrowed it for the night. Sam would have thought that particular description a bit stupid if anyone else had said it and he hadn't seen it unfolding in front of him, but he  _had_ seen it and he was completely in awe.

"That's  _my_ boyfriend," he whispered playfully to Mike, who rolled his eyes but grinned back at him.

"And you're still going with fake?" Mike muttered, but Sam missed it, eyes glued on Blaine again.

When the curtain went down and the audience--following Mary's lead--leapt to their feet for a standing ovation, Mike and Sam slipped out of their seats and raced back to the room that took them backstage, making it just in time for their curtain call. They bowed and play fought for the audience, before taking their designated spots in line and applauding the rest of the cast as they came out onstage in pairs.

Blaine and Rachel were naturally the last to walk out, and Sam wolf whistled and cheered, blowing them both kisses, wanting to break line and swamp them with congratulatory hugs. Once the curtain lowered for the last time, he did just that, first turning to Blaine and swooping him into a bone-crushing embrace, kissing him soundly on the lips (because it was expected of him, of course) and loudly declaring how proud he was of his beau, then hugging Rachel and kissing her on the cheek.

"Seriously, B," he gushed as they were carefully climbing out of their costumes and back into their regular clothes, setting aside their costumes for the next night's performance, "you were...and I get it sounds really gay, but you were  _magic_ out there."

"You were great, too, Sam," Blaine replied, resolutely not checking Sam out while they changed, instead reaching for some of the moist towelettes Kurt had supplied to rid themselves of the makeup.

Finn rolled his eyes from his own station but said nothing. He'd given up where the musical was concerned. He just wanted to get it over and done with so he could go back to focusing on getting the lead in glee. Regionals would be coming up after Christmas, and he was determined to remind Mr Schue that he was the best--the  _only--_ choice to duet with Rachel.

"Thanks, babe," Sam responded, exclaiming in pain when Blaine obviously punched him in the shoulder.

"Pet names," Blaine reminded him, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

-?-

Blaine couldn't help but smile at Sam's infectious grin. Sam, Blaine had learned, absolutely  _loved_  the holidays. He loved everything about it: Christmas trees, snow, wreathes, snow, boughs of holly, snow, cheer and goodwill to all men, and, of course, snow.

They pulled into the Lima Mall parking lot for some Christmas shopping. It wasn't snowing but that didn't put a dent in Sam's excitement.

By this time it wasn't too difficult to keep up the charade, in fact it was quite easy for Blaine to forget that it  _was_  a charade. Since they had to pretend even in Sam's house for Stevie and Stacy's sakes, he had gotten used to being very tactile with Sam. Blaine couldn't remember anymore the number of times Sam would hug him, reach for his hand, or kiss him in greeting even when it was just the two of them. Even in the Fortress, Sam would kiss his cheek when he showed up or when he would leave. It had become automatic. Sometimes, Blaine would find himself surprised to see himself holding Sam's hand and not remembering who grabbed whom first.

In school, things were so stress free that Blaine had to remind himself that he used to be harassed quite thoroughly for being gay and he was now walking hand-in-hand with another boy and no one batted an eyelash. Even the girls had stopped giving him the stink-eye for "stealing Sam" since, according to Marley and Sugar, they were "too cute for words." Besides another recent transfer student was taking all the attention now, much to Sam's relief. Blaine didn't see what the fuss with this Ryder guy was about (other than the fact that he was a transfer and was apparently quite talented on the football field) but, as it made things easier, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He grinned when he remembered Sam explaining his latest theory to Kurt, Unique and Rachel on why the jocks had eased up on Blaine when it was revealed that he had a boyfriend. Sam's recent theory went that, since Blaine had a boyfriend now, he wouldn't be tempted to go after any of the others. Blaine had heard it before and just rolled his eyes, but the others were appalled. Kurt had turned beet red, Unique's eyes narrowed into slits and literally quivered in indignation and Rachel's eyes and mouth were wide open in disbelief. They didn't know whether to rail at the rampant sexism, be disgusted at the jocks' conceit or shocked at their ignorance over gay people. Sam didn't know, as the token clueless straight guy, whether to laugh or run for his life.

Thinking about what else had become good, he thought about how hanging out with the glee kids solidified a few friendships, particularly Sugar, Rachel, Kurt and Unique. So much so that he would find himself going out with people other than Sam sometimes. And then he was actually enjoying his classes. His AP Calculus and AP Chemistry classes in particular were actually challenging and were better than the ones in Dalton.

It wasn't perfect, of course. Except for Rutherford, who actually spoke to him, and MacManus, who at least acknowledged him outside the field, most of the team still ignored him--even if Puckerman treated him like a full member on it nowadays.

Sam's declaration had created a paradigm shift in the school as well, whereas before Blaine was bullied by the jocks and found sympathy with the nerds, artists and other "misfits". Landing a hot, popular boyfriend and being the star player of one of the most successful sport teams in the school (the Titans hadn't suffered a loss since he joined), he was now ignored by his former tormentors and was now resented by his former fellow misfits (never mind that they didn't stand up for him or approach him or tried to befriend him when he was being victimized--save for Kurt and Unique). Fortunately for Blaine, he was never really part of that clique or had friendships there to lose.

Glee was in that grey area that had popular kids along with the misfits and didn't quite fit in anywhere. In there, those who liked him embraced him and made him fully welcome but the ones who didn't like him,  _really_  didn't like him. And those were only Santana, Mercedes and Finn so he could deal. He'd dealt with a whole lot worse for more trivial reasons.

He got out of the car easily enough and Sam automatically reached out and grabbed his hand. Blaine was never a very touchy person, his parents were not what one would call affectionate, but even when they were just friends Sam had been extremely tactile and he had long since gotten used to it. That said, he still blushed at times--especially when they were in public--but he knew that Sam was going to go on "full boyfriend mode" today so he was prepared for it.

"This is going to be great!" Sam said as he walked quickly towards the mall, almost dragging an amused Blaine behind him. He dug into his front jeans pocket and brought out a much-folded piece of notebook paper. "You've got your list?"

"Sam," Blaine said, "I'm done with most of my shopping."

"What?" Sam stopped abruptly and looked at Blaine with an almost betrayed expression on his face. "How?! I haven't driven you anywhere but school and work!"

Blaine grinned up at him. "First of all, my list is kinda small this year and secondly, most of the people on that list are musical." Blaine shrugged and started to walk into the Mall. It was chilly and he didn't bring a heavier coat, although he noticed that Sam had been wearing the same denim jacket. He wondered if Sam even had a heavier coat, the denim jacket was looking frayed and thin. "So I shopped at the store. Alex gave me an awesome discount."

"Waitaminute!" Sam exclaimed as he hurried to keep up with Blaine. "That is  _so_  not fair!"

"Why?"

Sam blushed as he answered. "I was kinda hoping to get a peek at what you were going to get me."

"What makes you think I got you anything?" Blaine answered with a serious expression on his face. Sam's face fell and Blaine immediately felt guilty. The blond was so gullible sometimes..."I'm kidding Sam, of  _course_  I got you something."

"Really?" Sam's expression immediately lit up. "What is it?"

Blaine looked around furtively and leaned closer. Sam's eyes brightened as he lowered his head to meet Blaine's. Then Blaine whispered in his ear, "It's a surprise."

"Har har har," Sam said while playfully scowling at Blaine as the curly-haired boy laughed.

Hand in hand they finally walked through the glass doors and into the mall, Blaine sighing in relief as the heat warmed him up.

"Who else do you have to get presents for?" Sam asked as he was looking over his list.

"Alex," Blaine counted off, explaining, "I didn't think it would be a good idea to get him something from his own store. Coach," he said said as he raised another finger, "she really helped me out. I already got her a gift certificate to Breadstix but I'm hoping I can find something better, and finally Stevie and Stacy."

"Aww, B," Sam said smiling, "you don't have to do that. Those guys are spoiled enough as it is."

Blaine shrugged. "I want to, they made me feel really welcome," he scowled at Sam, "and they aren't spoiled, Stacy and Stevie are really sweet."

"You're just saying that 'cos they like you."

"Well yeah," Blaine said blinking.

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed Blaine's hand. "C'mon then, babe, let's hit the toy store first."

Blaine stopped walking. "What did I say about the pet names, Sam?"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Sorry, B!" He carded a hand through his hair, oblivious to Blaine's amusement. "I can't help it. It's habit."

Blaine raised one eyebrow, "Just...try for me, Sam."

"Okay." Sam waited a beat. "So...can we go to the toy store now,  _Blaine_?"

Blaine nodded and pretended not to hear the "-neybear" Sam muttered laughingly under his breath.

-?-

Blaine was very glad that he had Sam with him at the toy store. While it took all of Blaine's powers of persuasion to keep Sam focused, he was able to tell him which My Little Pony Stacy wanted for her collection and which Lego play set Stevie would like. Sam pouted and declared that he wanted his own Lego play set and was crushed at the reminder that Blaine had already bought him his present.

Sam went crazy at the toy store. He probably spent at least a quarter of his savings on presents for Stacy and Stevie alone, and that was after Blaine had told him to take it easy. He grinned, remembering Sam's fierce concentration trying to decide on getting Stevie a lightsaber or a nerf pistol.

In the end he ended up buying more than he originally planned but less than when he went crazy. As soon as they left the store he thanked Blaine for keeping him, mostly, in line. They then spent a solid two hours buying presents for people on Sam's list. Sam asked Blaine's advice on what to get people and Blaine was relieved that he was there to help. Sam was ruled by sentiment first which was problematic since his list was rather large. He had almost all the glee kids on it as well as several members of the football team he was close to. And this didn't count his friends outside either clubs plus friends outside of McKinley and his family--within Lima and without.

Blaine reined in Sam's impulsive tendencies by keeping track of his budget and reminding him who else he had to buy for. It worked rather well. Blaine never said "no", instead telling him how much he had left to spend if he did end up buying the Star Wars: The Complete Saga Blu-Ray Edition for Mike.

They stopped for a light snack. Blaine didn't have breakfast and he had slowly convinced Sam that it was okay to indulge once in a while _._  While eating they planned out the rest of their shopping. Blaine still hadn't found anything for Alex and something appropriate for Coach Beiste, although he did find an adorable toy for Pearl, and Sam had only managed to get presents for a handful on his list (they'd really spent a lot of time in the toy store). So Sam left him to drop off their bags in the car. He was so adamant that he do it himself, Blaine was sure he was going to sneak off and buy Blaine  _his_  present. He smiled; Sam could be so transparent sometimes.

He looked around and the mall had gotten quite crowded as the Christmas shoppers had started to arrive. He saw something catch his eye at the department store. He got up and walked up to the display. It was a beanie-scarf-glove set, in soft blue and brown colors and, more importantly, they were on  _sale_. He frowned, remembering that Sam didn't seem to have gloves. It was the last set and on impulse he grabbed it, checking to make sure that the gloves were large enough (Sam had big hands!). Fortunately all the hand-holding had given him a pretty good idea on how big Sam's hands were. Goods in hand, he headed towards the men's coats.

He took out his phone to make sure he wouldn't miss Sam's text as he started to browse through the racks of coats.

"Blaine?"

Blaine turned to look and saw Kurt and Rachel. He smiled and waved and they quickly joined him. Greetings and hugs were exchanged.

"Where's Sam?" Rachel asked, looking around, "I thought you said you guys were shopping for Christmas presents today."

"He's dropping off our first haul into the car," Blaine replied, "and sneaking off to buy my present without me seeing it."

"I hope he isn't getting you a comic book," Kurt said.

"I wouldn't mind," Blaine answered and rolled his eyes at Kurt's aghast expression. "I happen to  _like_  comic books, Kurt."

"But it's Christmas!" Kurt exclaimed. "Your  _first_  Christmas together as a couple! It should be special!"

"Kurt, it's fine...uh, what are you doing?" Blaine asked as he saw Kurt whip out his cellphone.

"Just asking the Boy Wonder where he is so I can join him and make sure he gets you the right kind of present--" Kurt stopped as Blaine's hand covered his phone. He looked up at Blaine.

"Whatever he gets me will be special, Kurt," Blaine explained, "because, one, this is Sam we're talking about, and two, because it  _is_  our first Christmas together so by definition, whatever he gets me will be special." Blaine had to swallow a lump on his throat. He forgot for a minute that Sam wasn't technically his boyfriend, but the weird thing was, Sam was  _acting_  very convincingly like a boyfriend. Sam didn't have to hide his present or anything like that but he was. He was making it very difficult for Blaine to remind himself that this relationship wasn't real.

"Fine," Kurt sniffed but Blaine could see that Kurt wasn't really upset, "but don't come running to me if he gets you a basketball or something."

"Well, now that that's done," Rachel said, "I'm thinking of buying some presents for some friends this year."

"Joining in on the Christmas spirit?" Blaine asked.

"Sure," Rachel agreed. "Granted we don't really celebrate it but I decided how wrong can it be to give presents to people I love and respect? And if it so happens that I give presents to friends and family on the same day that Gentiles present gifts to their friends and family as part of a cultural and religious tradition, well, that's just coincidence."

"Did you get that? Because I didn't," Kurt asked Blaine.

Blaine ignored Kurt and instead said to Rachel, "I think that's a great idea, Rach."

"Buying a new coat?" Kurt decided to change the subject when he realized that Blaine wasn't going to join him in teasing Rachel.

"I'm thinking of getting one for Sam," Blaine said, "I don't think he has a heavier coat than that denim jacket he has on."

"You know, he did shoot up a couple of inches from last year and has bulked up," Kurt mused. "He had this wonderful Burberry coat last Christmas but it was rather tight even then. Not that I was complaining," he added with a sigh. "If I'd known he liked boys..." He shook himself from the thought, ignoring Rachel's disapproving stare. "Coats. Right. Yes, I'd say he's probably outgrown last year's."

Blaine snorted. "And he's spending everything he has on everyone else."

"So let's get your man a coat!" Rachel cried.

With Kurt on the job it only took them a few minutes to find a coat that was not only within Blaine's budget but looked good enough to both pass Kurt's high standards and what Blaine thought Sam would like, and--most importantly--keep Sam warm.

Blaine paid for the coat and the scarf-gloves-beanie set and Kurt promised to hold on to them and give them to Blaine at a later date so as not to tip Sam off. Blaine texted Sam to find out where he was but Sam was still in the middle of buying Blaine's present. So Blaine told him to take his time, that he was with Kurt and Rachel.

Sam joined them after an hour, looking flushed but pleased. He kissed Rachel on the cheek in greeting, offered Kurt a fist-bump to his annoyance and then wrapped his arms around Blaine.

"Well aren't you two just the cutest?" Unique grinned as she joined them, clearly out doing her own Christmas shopping if the bags in her hands were any indication, and she giggled delightedly when Sam pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek (the latter blushing and rolling his eyes). "Seriously, it's like an overload of adorable."

"We were just gonna go get lunch," Sam said by way of reply, arm now slung around Blaine's shoulders, "you wanna come with?"

She agreed happily and fell into step with Kurt, quietly analysing various fashion choices of other shoppers while Rachel ignored the comments Kurt pointedly tossed at her. They found a booth in the mall food court and went in groups to get their food, Kurt and Rachel going for salads, and Blaine and Unique went for a couple of sandwiches. Blaine didn't comment when Sam got a salad, too. Sam did have breakfast twice and he'd make sure that he'd eat a healthy dinner later.

"So, how's your Christmas shopping going?" Unique asked, reaching over and stealing a couple of fries from Blaine's plate, "I'm happy to say I'm finally done."

"We're only just getting started," Sam lamented. "I have so many people to buy gifts for and I have no idea where to start."

"Good thing you found us, then," Kurt beamed, eyes lighting up at the prospect of spending someone else's money during a shopping spree. "It's what we do best." He looked to his left, where Rachel was sitting, then back across at Sam. "Well, not  _all_  of us..."

"Hey!" Rachel protested, while Kurt shrugged and patted her hand consolingly.

"And here I was thinking that performing is what I, I mean,  _we,"_  Unique clarified when Kurt frowned, "do best."

Kurt looked almost solemn as he considered this. "Alright, point conceded," he agreed, before looking back to the couple across from him. "Shopping is one of the many fabulous things that we do best."

"And telling people what to do," Unique added.

"Right. So performing, shopping, and telling people what to do are some of the many things that we do best."

"And looking delicious doing it," Unique added again.

Before Kurt could open his mouth to add the line, Rachel interrupted with a groan. "I  _knew_  that Monty Python marathon was a mistake! I didn't expect you guys to just--oh no!" Rachel's eyes widened when she realized what she'd said.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquistion!" Blaine and Sam chorused.

Rachel groaned. "Guys, it's Christmas, have a heart!"

"Okay," Sam said, Blaine smiled. Sam was the softest touch; he was always the first to capitulate. The conversation returned to helping Sam with his shopping. Kurt and Unique started throwing ideas on what to get.

"Just to be clear," Blaine cut in, pinning both Kurt and Unique with a hard stare, "we're on strict budgets, guys. So nothing over the top."

Unique's eyes went wide with faux innocence. "When would I  _ever_  give you the idea that I am over the top?"

Kurt snorted. "You're a boy dressed as a girl," He teased playfully, eyebrows raised so high, they threatened to retreat into his perfectly coiffed hair.

" _And_?" Unique challenged, rolling her neck and turning her glare onto the smaller boy, but her eyes glittered with mirth, giving away how much she enjoying bickering with him.

"No, you're right," Kurt backtracked, before quietly adding with such dangerously high levels of sarcasm that, had they not known he was only playing along, the rest of group would have felt like hazard suits were required, "...you're not over the top  _at all_..."

He flinched and yelled out in exaggerated pain when Unique's purse collided with his shoulder.

"You just hit me with a purse!" Kurt shouted. "You  _literally_ just  _hit_  me with  _your_  purse!"

"Unique! Kurt!" Rachel reprimanded, before continuing into a long-winded speech about proper behavior in public settings that soon had the duo regretting ever saying anything, if only to make her stop talking.

Blaine and Sam leaned back in their chairs, enjoying the annoyed expressions on Unique and Kurt's faces.

-?-

"Did you get everything?" Blaine asked Sam as they drove from the Lima Mall.

"Yep," Sam affirmed. "It  _was_  great that we ran into Kurt, Unique and Rachel, huh? Got really great ideas for presents. Did you find anything for Coach Beiste and Alex?"

"Nope," Blaine said, frustrated. "I guess the gift certificate will do, but I kind of want to give her something more, but I don't want to be inappropriate, you know?"

Sam flashed him a grin. "You couldn't if you tried, ba-B."

"Did you just call me 'baby'?"

Sam flushed in embarrassment. "No," then he grinned, "by accident. I swear!"

"Sure, sure," Blaine snorted. Then Blaine had a thought. He knew where he could find a present for Alex, and maybe Coach Beiste, but he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk.

"B, you okay?" Blaine blinked and saw Sam cast him a worried look before looking back on the road. "You spaced out there for a minute."

"Yeah, I just thought of a place where I think I can find a present for Alex and maybe for Coach."

"Really? That sounds cool."

"Yeah, except it's in Westerville."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Blaine said deflating.

"So when do you want to go?"

"What?" Blaine asked in confusion.

"To Westerville," Sam said. "When do you want to go?"

"Sam," Blaine explained, "it's in  _Westerville_ , you know?"

"So?" Sam shrugged. "You're not a criminal B, why should you feel guilty about going there?"

Blaine thought it over. Sam was right. Besides, after what Alex and Coach Beiste had done for him, he owed them that much. He really wanted to show how much he appreciated them. He made his decision and looked at his watch.  _Too late now._

"Is tomorrow okay?"

Sam smiled while looking at the road. "Tomorrow's perfect, B."

-?-

Blaine was quiet on the drive to Westerville. Sam left him alone, he knew that Blaine was feeling apprehensive. He remembered how panicked Blaine was when he saw Nick and Jeff at the Lima Mall and here they were heading into the lion's den. Sam frowned when he thought of that day. When he was at Dalton, he was teammates with Jeff in football, both of them were on the reserve team. Nick was on the lacrosse team but Sam had shared classes with Nick who had helped him out a few times with his English papers. They were good guys as far as he could remember. They were much closer to Blaine, obviously, but if they could be nice to him, when he wasn't a part of their group, he couldn't understand why they would do that to someone who was their actual friend. Although at this point, Sam was so angry at what they did he no longer cared  _why_  they did or didn't do anything. He just wanted to give them a piece of his mind.

Sam tried to control his temper; a new experience for him as he was pretty slow to anger. It wouldn't do to lose his calm. He had to stay rock solid for Blaine. The chances were good that they wouldn't run into anyone. Dalton went on Christmas break earlier than McKinley and for sure most of the students would have gone home to see their families or familial equivalents or hit the slopes in Aspen or Vail (if they didn't go to the Alps). There were even a few who left for the southern hemisphere to enjoy the sun and surf. Sam remembered being invited once to Gstaad but even then that was too rich for his blood. So the chances of bumping into anyone from Dalton--much less Blaine's former friends--were slim, although that hadn't stopped Blaine from biting his lip in worry.

He could feel Blaine getting more tense, and he reached across to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Don't stress, dude. You're stressing me out."

As his hand massaged the muscles at the base of Blaine's neck, his mind went back to the numerous memories of his mother performing the same comforting motions to his own neck. It was a tactic that she commonly used to calm him down when he grew overly frustrated. Sam had adopted the same comforting method when he would try to calm down Stacy and Stevie, gently rubbing their necks and whispering comforting phrases. He hadn't even realized that he had done the same thing with Blaine until he registered the soft feel of Blaine's skin on his fingers. He blinked in surprise and quickly glanced over at Blaine to see his reaction, fearing that the gesture was too intimate for their friendship and smiled in relief when he saw that Blaine seemed to deflate slightly, his worry lessening. He continued his motions. Before he was able to even contemplate the reason as to why the moment felt so right, Blaine began speaking and the inquisitive thoughts were distracted by the other boy's words.

"Sorry Sam," Blaine replied, ducking his head. "I didn't even realize..." He trailed off. Sam could tell he was having difficulty putting his feelings into words.

"It's cool, B," Sam reassured him. "Just remember that you have every right to be there.  _You_  did  _nothing wrong_ , okay?" Sam's voice got harder as continued. "You have nothing to be ashamed of or to be freaked out about. If anything,  _they_  should be the ones freaked out if they see you."

"Are you okay Sam?" Sam could see Blaine face him from the corner of his eye. He gave him a quick glance and tried to smile reassuringly at him but even he could tell that his smile was stiff and forced. The anger boiled up again and he quickly faced forward and put both hands on the wheel. It wouldn't do to lose control of the car right now. It had snowed the night before, and though the snow didn't stick, the roads were slick as a result.

"Sam?" Blaine sounded worried now. "You're  _pissed._ " He stared in wide-eyed surprise at his driver, having never seen him seething like this.

"Of course I am, B," Sam bit out, he held himself in, reminding himself once again that he should control his temper. He didn't want Blaine to think he was angry at him. "What they did to you was...it was..." Sam struggled to find the right word, "...such a  _douche_ move." Sam was not happy with the word choice which only fed his resentment against the Dalton Academy Wankers. He smirked at that name, though, and he felt a little better.

"Are  _you_  going to be okay if we see anyone we know there?" Blaine asked. At least Sam's near-Hulkout moment accomplished something: Blaine had refocused on keeping  _him_  calm which made Blaine forget his own anxiety. Sam smiled to himself; he was a genius and didn't even know it.

"I'll be cool," Sam promised. "But if they do anything, say one word out of line...if they even  _look_  at you funny, I'll...I'll..."

"Show them why everyone calls you Captain America?" Blaine asked with a grin.

"Abso-frickin'-lutely," Sam said with a smile, not even bothering to point out that nobody--Blaine included--ever actually called him that. (And he had spent a whole week pushing for it, too.) And with that, the atmosphere in the car lightened up considerably.

The two boys bantered the rest of the way, Blaine asking what Sam would do as Captain America and Sam answering with one deed more outrageous than the last. Sam was pleased he got Blaine out of his funk.

-?-

They pulled up to a store called Hidden Treasures. Sam had always seen it when he lived in Westerville but had never been inside. When he stepped in his eyes widened. It was full of curios, knick-knacks, and antiques. He saw what looked like pricey figurines labelled "authentic Lladró" and "real Swarovski" crystal pieces sitting next to what pretty much amounted to kitschy junk. Aside from a few obviously expensive pieces locked away, everything was out on display. Sam found himself unconsciously holding his hands behind him. While he never considered himself uncoordinated or a klutz, he definitely felt like the proverbial bull in the china shop.

Blaine went unerringly towards an area full of shelvings. He was looking through very old books and pulling out rolled-up pieces of paper which turned out to be old maps. Leaving Blaine to find his presents, Sam walked around.

He and Blaine had left Lima early and made good time. The store had just opened and, aside from an old woman at the counter and a bored-looking man who seemed to be a sales clerk, they were the only ones there. While a lot of the stuff was definitely not to his taste, he did find a display case full of crystal animals the size of his thumbnail that enthralled him. Another that got his attention was an amazing dollhouse in a corner with highly-detailed pieces. It was definitely not for a kid. The dining table even had tiny plates, glasses, knives and forks! Sam didn't know how long he was looking at it until he heard Blaine's voice.

He slowly walked towards him and found Blaine speaking to a young man. Sam recognized him, he was an upperclassman, a junior when Sam went to Dalton...Wes something-or-other. He was going to walk up when he realized that Wes couldn't have had anything to do with the Incident. He would have graduated before it. He decided that Blaine needed to do this alone but shamelessly eavesdropped anyway. Just in case Blaine needed him, of course.

"...only their side, of course," Wes was saying, "I'd like to know what happened from  _you_ , Blaine."

Blaine shrugged. He was picking up and looking at some bronze figurines and putting them down. He wasn't looking at Wes directly and Sam frowned. He wanted to scream at Blaine and remind him that he had nothing to be ashamed about!

"Does it matter, Wes?" He asked. Wes blinked but Blaine shrugged again and started going through a pile of old medals. "It's done. I'm out of Dalton and they made it perfectly clear where they stand on this issue--"

"So you're giving up?" Wes asked, interrupting Blaine. "Just like that? Years of friendship mean so little to you--"

"I wasn't the one who gave up on our friendship!" Blaine snapped back and his head flew up. Sam wanted to cheer. Finally! Blaine was standing up for himself!

"Blaine," Wes said slowly with both hands up palms out trying to placate Blaine. "Trust me, I know what they did was wrong. They could only spin it so much without outright lying to me and you know David, he's many things but he isn't a liar."

"My memories differ slightly from yours," Sam actually winced at Blaine's biting tone and it wasn't even directed at him. Wes, apparently, was made of sterner stuff and he managed to keep his eyes on Blaine but Sam saw his shoulders slump a bit as he lowered his hands.

An uncomfortable silence formed between them, one that Wes seemed unable to break and Blaine unwilling to. It was a side of Blaine that Sam had never seen. This must be what his parents were like, this side was the "Anderson": all formality, the ability to scold without actually saying anything, cold, unrelenting and unforgiving. Sam didn't like it. Then he saw Blaine's shoulders dip a bit and then he broke the impasse. And it was his Blaine, the Anderson gone as if it never was there.

"What do you want from me, Wes?" Blaine asked and Sam's hands unconsciously formed into fists when he heard how drained Blaine's voice was. He never wanted to hear Blaine like that again. Wes may have had nothing to do with what happened to Blaine but he certainly wasn't helping.

"Come to my place tomorrow. I'm having a small get-together. I was going to hunt you down anyway to ask you," Wes said as he placed a hand lightly on Blaine's arm. Sam's eyes narrowed at that, feeling both protective and--to his surprise--jealous. "David and Thad will be there. Nick is with his family in Columbus of course, Jeff left for Vail and Hunter is in Innsbruck this year I think, but Trent and even Sebastian might join us. Maybe we can put these things behind us, or at the very least get to say things that need to be said."

Sam's eyes widened and he took in a deep breath. Blaine alone with the  _Wankers_?! Over his dead body! He made the decision to go out there when he heard Blaine's answer.

"Are they sorry?" Blaine's voice was quiet but firm. It made both the other boys pause. Blaine looked up at Wes and even Sam could see that, despite his firm voice and the set of his jaw, Blaine's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Do they know what they did was wrong?"

Wes looked down. Sam's mouth set into a grim line as even he could figure that much out.

"They know what they did was...unfortunate," Wes said quietly, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes.

"' _Unfortunate_ '?" Blaine asked. Sam had enough. He grabbed the first thing he could and walked towards them, he forced himself to look at what he was holding to give Blaine time to pull himself together.

"Hey, babe, what do you think about this?" Sam asked and blinked when he realized what he was holding. He paused and wondered exactly who the item would suit. "For Coach Beiste?" He asked, remembering who Blaine was shopping for. Then he shocked himself by what came out next. "You know, for always 'looking out for us'?" That's it, he was  _definitely_ an improvisational Jedi!

He looked up and made eye-contact with Wes, purposefully ignoring Blaine so he could draw focus away from him. "Oh, hi! I remember you, you're Wes, right?" he asked. He, however, did not offer his hand to Wes but instead reached out towards Blaine and--without breaking eye contact with Wes--put his hand around Blaine's shoulders and pulled him to his side. He felt Blaine's arm automatically snake around his waist.

Wes cocked his head to the side, "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage..."

"Wes, this is Sam Evans," Blaine said, apparently fully recovered. Sam looked down at Blaine and saw him smile back up gratefully. "My boyfriend." Sam was pleased that Blaine had managed to say that smoothly. "He used to go to Dalton, left the year before I did."

"Oh yes, Evans," Wes replied. "You were in the reserve squad in football. I remember Coach Hamilton cursing a blue streak when you left. I take it you're at McKinley, too?"

"Yep. Coach Hamilton was really upset I left?" Sam was surprised, he didn't think he was even on Coach Hamilton's radar.

"He was setting you up to take over from Price and make starting quarterback your Junior year," Wes said with a grin. "He had your whole football program lined out. I assume you are in the...Titans, right?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"He made starting quarterback his Sophomore year," Blaine couldn't help interjecting proudly.

"Good on you, man," Wes said sincerely and his eyes noted Sam's protective stance. "Well you're welcome to join us tomorrow night, as a fellow Dalton Boy and all."

Sam felt Blaine tense up beside him and he knew that Blaine wasn't ready to meet the Wankers yet and he quietly damned Wes for forcing the issue. He did narrow his eyes at him, he wanted to make it clear that he was  _not happy_  with him or the other "Dalton Boys."

"I'm not a Dalton Boy, Wes, and I honestly don't know if I want to associate with what passes for them these days." He shrugged,not caring if he'd been too blunt. "I'm sure it would have been nice to catch up, but we made plans tomorrow night, right B?" He looked down at Blaine as he asked.

"Um, yeah, right," Blaine answered, though even Sam could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Sam cut in smoothly, "Kurt's Christmas soiree. He would never forgive us if we missed that." Sam turned back to Wes. "He had us RSVP and everything."

Wes wasn't stupid. He just nodded his head and accepted their excuse. "Well, that's a pity. But we should meet up before I head back to Yale. I'll come to Lima and see you, if that's okay? Just me, I promise, and we'll just talk. Sam is invited, too, of course."

Blaine accepted the peace offering graciously. "Of course Wes. I  _have_  missed you. A lot."

"I missed you, too, Blaine," Wes said with a smile. "Merry Christmas to you both."

After receiving their Christmas greetings, Wes left. Sam held on to Blaine tightly for a while and reluctantly let him go. He let his arm slide down and grabbed Blaine's hand though.

"This is actually a good idea, Sam," Blaine spoke up unexpectedly.

"What is?" Sam asked puzzled. "The Christmas soiree?"

"No," Blaine said chuckling, "this." Blaine held up the object Sam had grabbed earlier. "I think, if I can afford it, I'll even get it engraved with what you said, 'for always looking out for us'."

"Or how about: 'to help you keep an eye on us'?" Sam said with a grin.

"That can work, too," Blaine agreed.

"What did you find Alex?"

At this Blaine's smile bloomed as he picked up a beautifully engraved bronze plaque. He passed it to Sam and Sam marvelled at the detailing. He could already see it in the shop, and the words engraved on it were very fitting. The plaque read, ' _"_ _Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." ~ Victor Hugo'_

"He's going to love it, B," Sam said.

"Thanks," Blaine said as he smiled up at him.

They made their purchases and Blaine was actually a little relieved that the engraving would take too long because, frankly, it would have left a large dent in his savings. He didn't have access to his inheritance yet and he didn't feel right in asking for more of an advance. He bought some nice, heavy paper and some textured cards. He still had his fountain pen at home and decided that he'd write the dedication instead. He'd figure out which looked best and use that with the gift. He felt better with this since it made it a little more personal.

As they were driving back to Lima, Sam thought about what had happened in the store. Blaine was sleeping beside him, the anxiety having finally caught up with him, not to mention the emotionally-charged encounter with Wes, leaving him exhausted. He also doubted if Blaine had a lot of sleep the previous night. He had never felt that angry for someone else before, not even for his family. He spared a quick glance at his friend and his heart clenched at the thought of anyone hurting Blaine.

Sam's eyes went back on the road and he unthinkingly examined his own feelings. He was beginning to see that he hadn't been acting like his usual self when he was around Blaine. He remembered how he'd pushed Blaine hard when they'd first met up again. He had never gone after someone like that before, wanted to become close or wanted a friendship that badly. He'd even fought Puck for him!

Was this what his Dad had been hinting at? He suspected it was.

And then there was the whole "He's my boyfriend"-thing. If he was going to be fair he had to face the fact that he wouldn't have done that for Mike if Mike and Blaine had switched places.

He stole another quick look at Blaine and felt his lips curving up on their own volition. Having Blaine as a pretend boyfriend was easier than he'd expected. In fact, seeing as he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that dating Blaine was easier and even more fun than Quinn, Santana and even Mercedes had been. His brow furrowed a bit. Could he date Blaine for real? He had to admit that the Kiss--the one in the cafeteria was the only kiss with a capital "K"--wasn't bad. Oh hell, if he was going to be honest then he had to admit that the Kiss had been toe-curlingly awesome.

He came to a stop at a red light and his frown deepened. What did it mean that he  _enjoyed_ kissing his best friend? Because he did. A lot. Possibly more than he'd admit to anyone else at this point. He knew that didn't make him gay: he still liked girls and he'd never felt the compulsion to pursue guys before, but...Blaine was different. Blaine was...special.

"Holy crap..." He breathed, his brain suddenly whirring to life, a veritable film projector throwing pointed flashbacks into his line of vision, forcing him to face a truth that he'd blinded himself to for too long.

Blaine was special because there was no-one else in his life like him. His other friends were great, Mike especially, but they didn't really compare to the bond that he and Blaine had forged so quickly and effortlessly. Then there was the fact that it didn't matter if they were making a conscious effort to pretend to date, or just hanging out at the Fortress, he and Blaine were never uncomfortable in each other's company, nor did they seem to tire of spending time together. In fact, Blaine had infiltrated every facet of his life and, instead of feeling smothered like he had with Quinn, Santana or Mercedes, he relished it. Singing with him, dancing with him, playing video games, boxing at the gym...he couldn't get enough. It was almost like he was falling for...

_Oh my God._

Clenching the steering wheel, he allowed three terrifying--and yet traitorously thrilling--words play on repeat in his head while he struggled to drive Blaine home.

_I_ _**like** _ _him._

The words were still circling when he pulled up at Blaine's building, a lump lodging in his throat when the other boy woke groggily, rubbing at his eyes and smiling that smile at him...and,  _seriously_ , how had he missed any of his own reactions to Blaine before now?

"Sam?" Blaine asked, cocking his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he tried to assure his 'boyfriend', suddenly realising the predicament he was in, and seeing the humor and irony. How many other people could say that they'd dated and made out with someone before realising that they were interested in them at all? "It's just been a...big weekend." And that was an understatement. He'd left the house all normal, and was returning with romantic feelings for his best friend. "I guess I'm kinda tired."

Blaine nodded with empathy. "Yeah, and you had to drive while I got to nap. I feel kinda bad about that."

Sam shook his head, smiling genuinely. "Don't. It's fine. I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway." He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep as it was now. "But I'm gonna head home. Try to rest up for school tomorrow and whatever."

"Good plan," Blaine's answering smile was almost his undoing. He almost blurted his thoughts out without thinking them through properly, and was glad for the distraction of Blaine's next words. "Drive safe."

"Yes Sir!" He forced a cheeky grin and a salute. "See you tomorrow, B."

"See you," Blaine echoed as he climbed of the car. "Oh, and thank you again for today. For everything."

Sam nodded, cheeky grin still in place. "That's what boyfriends are for, though, right?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Bye, Sam."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Loki) - I just want to say that this is probably my favorite chapter in the fic, and not for the obvious reason. We're hitting the home stretch folks!
> 
> Now for some fun: there's a reference here to a movie and the first person to catch it will receive a scene that hit the editing room floor. Here's a clue, this movie inspired how Blaine ended up in McKinley. If you catch the reference and name the movie, you will receive one of three scenes that were written but were not used (for one reason or the other). We'll even let you pick: Mike's backstory, an alternate of the Blaine/Mike scene right after the kiss and an alternate scene (more like an 'outtake') of the scene outside the alley with Lauren, Puck, Alex and Blaine.
> 
> (FauxMe) – Apologies for the delay, guys, but we both have other things going on at the moment and we didn't want to rush it. This chapter should make a lot of you very happy. Once again, I want to thank Gotta B Writin for his amazing beta-ing powers. If you've been following the soap opera that is my A/N life, you'll know that I'm totally smitten with his writing, and I'm excited to announce that I am starting a new and exciting project with Gotta B (I don't know quite how I tricked him into it, but I'm running with it before he wises up and changes his mind!). Go and follow him as an author if you haven't already, because that's where we'll be posting. Much love, guys. Can't wait for your reactions to this chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

Sam barely slept on Sunday night, too preoccupied with thoughts of Blaine. He'd been totally sideswiped by his feelings: a crush developing without him even realizing it. His heart raced when he considered the fact that he could hold his crush's hand in public—hell, he could kiss him in public—and nobody would think twice, not even Blaine, because they were already kinda dating.

There was a sort of irony in that, he knew it. How many other people could honestly say that they had started dating someone and  _then_  decided that they liked them? Then there was the fact that he'd been comfortable kissing Blaine—he'd even freaking enjoyed it—but had still thought that he was as straight as straight could be. He face-palmed; how had he missed  _that_  glaring sign? He wasn't sure what it meant in terms of his sexuality. He still liked girls, so was he bi? Into all types of guys? Only into Blaine? But he knew it meant that things definitely weren't as cut-and-dry as he'd thought they were.

He fixated, for a moment, on that. How was he supposed to work out whether this was a Blaine-only thing or a many guys kind of thing? He couldn't exactly swagger up to, say, Kurt and plant a kiss on him to test the waters, could he? Oh, he knew the self-proclaimed Diva would probably love that, but...no. No, it was a stupid idea. Besides, even if he did like more than one kind of boy, it didn't necessarily mean that he would like every guy he looked at, right? He didn't get turned on by every girl he looked at, so he figured the same logic would apply.

Then again, he hadn't realized that  _Blaine_  turned him on, so...

But who was to say that Blaine would even feel the same? He stopped and was paralyzed by a mounting fear of rejection, then felt foolish. Blaine was a red-blooded, teen-aged gay guy and Sam knew that he was hot: there was no way that Blaine wouldn't find him attractive, right? Right. He hoped.

It didn't matter, he was getting off track. The point was he was already dating the object of his affections and now he wanted Blaine to know that it was real on his part. Did he have to ask him out again? Did that mean he'd have to dump him first? He doubted  _that_ would go down well. He could just imagine it now.

"B," he'd say, looking him in the eye and guiding him into a seat, "We gotta break up."

And Blaine would look at him through misty-eyes (because in Sam's fantasy it was obvious that the curly-haired boy liked him back) and he'd nod, somehow managing to choke out a "Why?" while he pretended that it didn't bother him.

Then Sam would grin, and his eyes would sparkle with mirth, and he'd say, "So I can ask you out for real."

And then Blaine would sock him in the shoulder and tell him he was an idiot, then storm off Diva-style, leaving Sam without a definitive answer...

And, yeah, he was getting ahead of himself.

It was all complicated, and backwards and confusing and  _no way_  was he going to talk to his Dad about it. Or his Mom. Or even Blaine. Not yet, anyway. But he desperately needed to talk to someone, or he felt he might explode.

Then it hit him: Mike. He could talk to Mike. The Zen Master wouldn't judge him or laugh at him, or even try to talk him out of how he thought he felt. But he would help him sort through the mess in his head, Sam was sure of it.

Come Monday morning, he was anxious to get to school, picking Blaine up early (trying his best to act as he normally would to avoid suspicion) and heading directly for the Batcave once he'd managed to convince the curly-haired boy to track down Kurt and discuss a Christmas-themed glee project.

He was dismayed to find his path blocked by a familiar wheelchair, but smiled at his friend anyway. "Hey, Artie," he greeted jovially, despite the fact that the entire world as he knew it was crumbling under his feet. "'Sup?" he extended his hand for a fist bump as they always did, but frowned when Artie returned it half-heartedly and without his usual flair. Feeling concerned, he quickly stuffed his hand in his pocket and just waited for the other boy to speak.

"Can we talk?" Artie asked, gesturing towards a nearby classroom.

Sam shrugged. "Sure," he answered, following Artie through the door.

"Okay, so, last time we had a one-on-one, I think I accidentally offended you and I wanted to apologize," Artie declared once the door was closed. He fiddled with his right wheel, running his thumb over the surface absent-mindedly. "I hope you don't think I was judging you for liking guys now. I was trying to say that it was a surprise but that I was here for you if you wanted to talk, 'cos I know it can't be easy being out now when you were kinda the most popular guy outside glee, but...I guess I messed that all up."

Sam blinked. In the time following his initial 'coming out', he'd forgotten all about his confrontation with Artie in the library. In fact, he'd been so consumed with the musical and Blaine that he'd not even realized that his friendship with the wheelchair-bound boy had become strained. He felt awful that the last time they'd spoken one-on-one had ended so badly, and that it had been a misunderstanding to boot...and that he hadn't even noticed that they weren't really speaking to each other because of it.

Crestfallen, he rushed to reassure his friend. "No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "You didn't mess it up, dude. I wasn't really listening to you. I'd had a weird day with Mercedes and Santana and I kinda just thought you were thinking the same stuff as them." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So I guess I'm sorry, for not trusting that you're a good guy, or whatever."

"So we're cool?" Artie asked, a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

Sam nodded and offered his fist. "Yeah," he agreed, grinning and making the appropriate 'boom' gesture when Artie's fist collided with his, "we're cool."

"So...you wanna talk about it?"

Sam cocked his head to the side. "I thought we just did? We  _totally_  talked that stuff out. I might be all into Blaine now, bro, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a girl and talk crap to death."

Artie laughed. "Uh, no. Not what I meant. You get this look on your face when you're confused or stuck thinking about something, and you've had it all morning...not that I was stalking you down the halls or anything...but, now that we're cool again, I thought you might want to get it off your chest or whatever," he paused, considering his words, "in a macho, manly way, of course."

"Oh. Right," Sam gave the offer a moment of contemplation, but decided that Mike already knew the whole story and, while he trusted Artie, he would still prefer Mike's advice. "It's okay, just a homework thing," he lied, feeling slightly guilty but, given the whole reason Artie had found him and apologized, he figured a little white lie couldn't hurt. "Mike's already kinda helping me with it, so I'm just gonna go find him."

Artie shrugged and nodded. "Well," he said as he wheeled towards the door, "if you can't find him, you know where to find me."

"Sure," Sam grinned. "Thanks, dude."

They parted ways in the hall, and Sam continued on towards the Batcave, sighing in relief to find Mike waiting for him. He was going to need all the help he could get.

 

-?-

Blaine half-heartedly listened to Kurt discussing costume ideas for Regionals, making sounds of agreement at all the appropriate pauses. He was distracted by thoughts of Sam, trying to work out why the blond had been acting so strangely that morning.

Blaine was convinced that it had something to do with him. Sam had tried his best to cover it up, but he'd been jumpy and weird ever since he'd pulled up at Blaine's apartment complex, first smiling brightly at him, then blanching and looking away.

Blaine had quickly thought over what had happened over the weekend, worried that his real feelings for the blond had been revealed, but he couldn't pinpoint a moment where that might have been the case.

"How are you?" He'd asked instead as he climbed into the passenger seat, warming his hands over the air con/heating vents in front of him.

Sam had swallowed, seemingly steeling himself, though against what Blaine had no idea, and glanced back at him. "Good. I'm good. Great, even. Why wouldn't I be?"

Blaine would have been amused if he wasn't so confused. Things had been fine yesterday. What could have happened to make Sam so anxious all of a sudden?

Then Sam had started talking about school, of all things, and how Blaine should find Kurt when they got there, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of them.

"You want me to find Kurt?" Blaine had then asked, quite surprised considering Sam's usual routine (almost a game now) was to try and keep Blaine to himself for as long as possible until their friends tracked them down. He'd tried to explain it once, something about spy tactics and subterfuge, but Blaine had just laughed and put it down to Sam being adorably Sam. Plus, he enjoyed the extra time it gave him with the blond, allowing him to imagine that Sam really did want to have Blaine all to himself.

Eyes still glued to the road, even though they were stopped at a red light, Sam had nodded. "Yeah. Kurt's cool. You like Kurt. I like Kurt. We all like Kurt. You can work on his Christmas ideas for Glee." He'd paused. "I love Christmas. So, if I like Kurt and I like you, and I love Christmas, this has gotta be, like, the best idea ever."

Blaine had almost asked if Sam was on drugs, before shaking the thought off and dismissing it as insane. Sam worried—too much sometimes, Blaine thought—about what he put in his body: there was no way he'd take anything that might possibly do him harm. And he cared too much about his parents and their rules to have been drinking, not to mention the fact that he'd never willfully endanger someone else's life by getting behind the wheel while intoxicated, so that wasn't an option either.

"Right," Blaine had instead drawled, still watching Sam with confusion and curiosity. "Then I'll do that."

And if he hadn't known Sam as well as he did, he wouldn't have noticed the way the blond's shoulders dropped with what looked like relief, and the smile Sam sent him might have convinced him that things were okay...but he wasn't at all convinced, and had, instead, sent Mike a text the second they'd parted ways at school, knowing that if anyone could get to the bottom of Sam's odd behavior it was the Asian boy.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" Kurt huffed, bringing Blaine out of his reverie.

Blaine turned to find his friend frowning, his hands planted firmly on his hips. He gave the boy an easy smile. "What? Of course I am."

Kurt's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched as a smirk painted itself on his face. "Uh huh," he challenged, "so you  _do_ agree to play the baby Jesus for a Nativity-themed choreography, wearing nothing but a diaper?"

When Blaine's face showed his horror at the idea, Kurt cackled, "I didn't think so." His smile softened as he leaned forward and asked, "So what  _were_  you thinking about, instead of listening to my inspired ideas? It  _has_  to be something good."

Blaine snorted at the inference that not just any old topic could distract from Kurt's babbling, before remembering Sam's behavior and sighing. "Sam," he admitted quietly.

For his part, Kurt had the decency to not tease him this time, obviously picking up on Blaine's mood. "Is everything okay there? When we saw you guys on Saturday you were as sickeningly adorable a couple as ever."

"He's just acting a bit strangely today," Blaine found himself confessing. "I don't know why."

Kurt asked him to define 'strangely' and so Blaine reiterated the exchange in the car, laughing a little when Kurt agreed that, yes, everyone did like him, adding "because I'm fabulous" by way of justification.

Then the effeminate boy smiled and shook his head. "It sounds to me," he said, patting Blaine's shoulder, "that Sam's finally worked out just how lucky he is to have you. He kinda sounds like, well, like I did when I was mooning over Finn."

At Blaine's aghast expression, he hurried to explain, "Before he was my step-brother."

"That's definitely a story I need to hear another time." Still rattled by Kurt's odd admission, Blaine shook his own head. "But I think you're wrong about Sam."

In fact, Blaine knew it, but he couldn't tell Kurt that it was all a charade now. The time for being honest about his 'relationship' had passed. So, when Kurt smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly, he'd forced a smile in return.

"Seriously, Blaine, I might not have had a boyfriend of my own, but I've watched a  _lot_ of Doctor Phil. Trust me, Sam's probably just at that stage where he's a little insecure about the possibility of losing you. You're freaking out over nothing."

Blaine could only sigh and nod. "I hope so, Kurt," he replied genuinely, itching to check his phone for signs that Mike had worked his magic in the meantime, "I really hope so."

"But, you know, if it doesn't work out," Kurt fluttered his eyelashes, "there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Fish with fabulous style, in fact." He brushed imaginary lint from his clothes casually.

The curly-haired boy chuckled at that. "I'll keep that in mind."

 

-?-

Mike wasn't quite sure what this was about. But Blaine had sent him a text to say that Sam was acting weird and had asked him to check on him. If Sam wanted to talk to Mike about it, it probably had something to do with Blaine. Mike thought that with Blaine on the scene and Sam's obvious preference for his company that he would see less of Sam, but that wasn't true. In fact, Mike had seen more of Sam recently, mostly because he wanted some Blaine-centric advice. Sam had told him that Blaine was sometimes too emotional to give the kind of advice Sam would get from Mike.

Apparently he was Spock to Sam's Kirk, while Blaine was Bones. That was fine with Mike. Spock was cool.

When Sam walked into the Batcave, Mike saw the surprise on his face. Mike just raised his phone.

"I thought I was better at keeping my weirdness from Blaine," Sam said, looking flustered. "Anyways, um…dude...I have...I'm...Blaine's..." he huffed.

Mike could see that whatever Sam wanted to say, he was having difficulty with. He started to think that maybe Sam wanted to end this charade or that he'd found a girl he liked, but Mike was nearly caught off-guard when instead Sam said, "I really like Blaine. Like,  _really_ like him."

Mike went absolutely still. The problem with Sam being able to converse with him non-verbally was that he had to be certain about what he 'said'. Besides, in this situation, it would be better for him to just lay it all out there so there would be no misunderstandings.

Still, Mike had to swallow back a grin and the urge to say "tell me something I didn't know." Instead, he observed Sam carefully, taking in the blond's obvious anxiety about the revelation. Thinking like Sam was harder than most people would guess. Precisely because Sam was rather simple-minded; but simple didn't mean stupid, all it really meant was that Sam wasn't weighed down by bullshit or prejudices and other filters most people have. It was hard to think without bias; even Mike had a pretty big set of prejudices which he normally accounted for when he thought things through. But Sam, Sam was truly one of the most non-judgmental people Mike had met. It made it really hard to think like Sam.

Mike guessed that Sam's anxiety was not because he had feelings for a boy, but because he had developed romantic feelings for a friend who he believed wasn't interested in him.

So, really, Sam had two filters: Blaine and his inability to see himself as the great and amazing guy he was. These were more like blinders really.

Well he knew that Blaine liked Sam and here was Sam finally admitting that he liked Blaine. It  _should_  have been simple and if it was about anyone else, Mike would have just spoken the truth and let Sam work it out, but this was about  _Blaine:_ Sam's biggest blind spot. Mike realized that, if he didn't handle this with some finesse, he could mess them both up really badly.

"Tell me why this is bothering you so much."

Sam blinked at him and then Mike could see him attacking the problem from that end. Obviously Sam didn't bother to think  _why_  he was so anxious about liking Blaine. Mike could almost see the gears turning in Sam's head, and when Sam blushed, Mike knew he was thinking of Blaine the same way Mike had thought of Ms Holliday in Spanish class when she'd subbed for Mr Schue.

Then Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I just...I really...I care about him. And it's different to the way I'd care about him as a friend and I...I don't know what to do. We're already dating but he thinks it means nothing and it means  _everything_ and I don't wanna mess this up."

Mike arched an eyebrow and tilted his head, gesturing with his hand for Sam to continue. He knew he could interject with his own advice, but he wanted to see where the blond's own thought process—now that he was hearing his own words out loud—would take him.

"Dad pointed out that I've been acting...well, not myself, I guess, around Blaine, and that I don't think things through, and I don't want to do that this time. Guess that means I've gotta stop and think about it, right?"

He didn't wait for Mike's response, ploughing on regardless. "Right. So...I can't just blurt it out to him like, 'Hey, B, guess what? I really like you, let's go make out for real' or anything. I need to...make it special? That sounds so lame. I just...I don't want him to think I'm just going through a phase like Santana said, or whatever. So...dude, what do I do?"

"Not acting impulsively is a good start," Mike said. As much as he wanted to get Blaine and Sam to get together already, Mike was aware that Blaine had just been betrayed recently by not just friends but by his family. Any radical change in behavior  _might_  trigger a panicked response.

At least when it came to Blaine, Sam's instincts were spot on. "Take it slow, Sam. You're right about that. Blaine just got settled, don't give him too many changes too quickly. You just got him comfortable 'fake-dating' you, if you tell him right now that your feelings are real, it'll be like pulling the rug out from under him."

"Yeah," Sam sighed in agreement, "you're right. I don't want him to think that I'm confused or just going through a phase, or something."

"You know Blaine better than anyone Sam," Mike assured him. "If I was in your shoes, what advice would you give me about dealing with Blaine?"

Sam frowned and Mike hid another grin; he guessed that his blond friend really didn't like the idea of Blaine being with someone else, even if that person was Mike. But he could see him thinking about it.

"Seduce him," Sam finally answered. "Slowly. Blaine doesn't think he's worthy of being someone's boyfriend right now so it's gotta be sneaky. Use the pretend-relationship to do really romantic stuff until we get past that prickly armor he's got around his heart.  _Show_  him that we…that  _I_  mean business so, when I do admit my feelings, he'll already have the truth in hand."

Mike smiled at Sam and then after a moment, Sam smiled back at him.

"Thanks Mike."

 

-?-

"Anderson," Beiste called after Blaine at the end of his last gym class before school broke up for the Christmas holidays, "a word?"

Blaine was secretly relieved to have an excuse to hang back. He really wanted to give Coach Beiste her present but didn't want to do it in front of the other guys.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he walked over to the woman that had helped him out so much during the term. "Yes, Coach?"

She beamed at him and clapped a beefy hand on his shoulder. "Just wanted to say Merry Christmas, kid," Shannon told him. "You had a rough start and pulled it together. It's been good to see."

He ducked his head, soaking in the praise. It had been a long time since he'd had an adult in his life that he respected quite as much as Shannon Beiste. "Thanks Coach. If you hadn't given me the chance..."

"Nope. Stop that," Beiste cut him off. "It doesn't take much to get me cryin' at this time of year," she confided with a wink. "And I've got an image to maintain."

He laughed at that. "Well...I wouldn't want to ruin that."

"You have big plans for the holidays?" she asked, trying not-so-subtly to see whether he'd be alone for Christmas.

While it would annoy him coming from almost anyone else, Blaine was warmed by her obvious concern. "Yeah," he said with a smile, "Sam's family are doing a big dinner and have kind of demanded that I join them."

Sam had even jokingly mentioned the handcuffs again, and it had taken all his self-restraint to not call his bluff. "And I'm really looking forward to it."

Shannon's shoulders sagged with relief. If he'd told her that he was on his own, she might have forced him to join her at her sister's place, which would have just been awkward...but no kid deserved to be alone at Christmas, especially not a good one like Blaine Anderson. "Glad to hear it," she admitted. "You deserve a good Christmas. You've definitely earned it with all the work you've put in this term."

She'd started leading him towards the locker rooms, a sign that she was trying to wrap the conversation up and let him head off to whatever activity he had next. But Blaine had other plans.

"Wait here for a minute?" he asked, walking in to the locker room and heading for his locker, glad that most of the guys had seemingly cleared out already. He unlocked the padlock and reached into his gym bag, emerging with the gift he'd bought her. He knew that it was a pretty lame move to buy your teachers gifts, but Coach Beiste had saved his ass after she'd broken up that fight with Lipoff, and she deserved a little recognition every so often too.

He walked back out into the gym and presented the small package to her, smiling, suddenly a little bashful. "So, um, Merry Christmas," he said.

She blinked, taking the gift with genuine surprise. "Oh, thank you, Blaine. You didn't have to—"

He shook his head. "It's not much, but...you've helped me out a lot since I got here and you're the only teacher who really seems to care. I mean, the others all act like they're just as trapped here as us students, but not you. I mean, you actually pay attention...so..." he trailed off, feeling like a complete spaz.

Shannon blinked again, only this time she appeared to be blinking back tears. He stared in shock and she laughed, wiping at her eyes. "I did warn you, kid," she laughed.

"I...thought you were joking. Huh."

She snorted and opened the little rectangular box to find an ornate, antique spyglass.

She looked up at Blaine, her eyes wide and Blaine blushed at the attention. He quickly drew her attention back to the present. "There's, uh, there's a card..."

 _God_ , he thought as he watched her read the words that Sam had suggested,  _I'm so lame._

Her eyes misted over some more as she opened the heavy bone-white card. Inside, in beautiful strokes read,  _Coach Bieste, Thank you for looking out for me. I hope this will help you keep an eye on all of us, your kids. Yours, Blaine Anderson._

"It's perfect, Blaine," Coach Bieste said thickly, unashamedly wiping her eyes. "Thank you."

Blaine grinned, pleased that she genuinely seemed to like the gift.

"Don't think this means I'll let up on you at training after break," she threatened, quasi-playfully.

"Me? Bribe a teacher?" he made his eyes go comically wide with faux-innocence as he backed back out of the room and towards the locker room. "I wouldn't  _dream_  of it, Coach."

She laughed again and waved him off. "Get lost, Anderson," she said lightly, "enjoy your holidays."

He saluted and nodded. "You too, Coach."

 

-?-

"Oh, good, you dressed warmly," Sam said as Blaine opened the passenger seat.

"You told me to."

The blond grinned. "So you're doing everything I say now?" he waggled his eyebrows. "I can have fun with that."

Blaine laughed and hit him in the shoulder. It was mid-December, two days before Christmas. Ever since break started Sam had been ramping up the boyfriend-thing. Operation: Rooftop Mancave was a success and, although it was far too cold now to hang out there for long, the three boys did roast some 'smores on an open fire in an old grill. The Evans family got a new TV so Sam, Mike and Blaine bought the old one from Dwight and Mary (who had attempted to insist that payment for the hand-me-down was not necessary) and brought it to the Fortress. Mike left his Xbox there since he rarely had time to play with it at home anyway and most of his weekends were used up in dance class.

One evening, when it had just been Sam and Blaine, Sam had bundled them both up, lay on the battered couch they'd found, and insisted that Blaine lean on his chest as they watched the sun set and the stars come out.

Blaine figured it was just Sam loving the holidays. He really was very much into the Christmas spirit. Even when they volunteered at the homeless shelter, Sam approached it with such glee and laughter, his joy and constant smile making everyone else smile around him.

They also went on long drives. Once Sam dragged him to this flea market in Bellfontaine where he found some vintage tees and a little turtle made of cut-glass that just reflected the light in awesome colors. They spent a lot of time in the Fortress watching DVDs, where Sam insisted on cuddling with Blaine because he was "too cold but the comforter was too warm."

They spent a lot of time in the Evans' kitchen as well, where Blaine insisted that Sam learn a few recipes. And Blaine's dinners with the Evans family ratcheted up to three, sometimes four, times a week.

Sam was sometimes adorably upset when Blaine made plans with Kurt or Rachel or Sugar. At least when he hung out with Mike, Sam could join in. But one time, Kurt put his foot down and yelled at Sam and told him to go "geek out with Artie" because he needed some "quality gay time" with Blaine. Sam had responded by stealing Blaine's phone so he couldn't text with Kurt for two straight days. Rachel and Unique eventually had to intervene.

Blaine allowed himself to be physically affectionate because nothing he did seemed to make Sam uncomfortable. He woke up once being spooned by Sam and when he tried to extricate himself, Sam just pulled him tighter and nuzzled the back of his neck. Blaine knew he was opening himself up to heartbreak but it would take someone with stronger willpower than he had to resist Sam Evans.

Blaine comforted himself with the thought that he could do this. When they inevitably broke up, it would just be like any teen-aged relationship breaking up. It would feel like the world was ending but he knew it wouldn't. As long as he watched himself and didn't let Sam know how strongly he felt about him, when this finally played out, at least Blaine could salvage the friendship. Sam wouldn't have to know about Blaine's heartbreak.

Blaine couldn't believe how much had happened in just a few short weeks. Now, two days before Christmas, Sam had, once again, decided to take him on a public outing. This time it was the middle of a Saturday (they both had taken the day off work) and Blaine had no idea where they were going.

"So," the shorter boy said, peering into the backseat for a clue as to what Sam's plans were. "Where are we going?"

Sam laughed, his eyes on the road. "Nice try, B, but it's a surprise."

"But  _Saaa_ - _aaam_ ," Blaine whined, feeling particularly playful. "I wanna know! Don't you think your boyfriend should know where you're taking him on a date?"

"And you will, B, when we get there."

Blaine huffed and folded his arms, pouting with dejection, but the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips gave him away. He'd learned that Sam was awesome good at keeping him in the dark on these 'surprise dates'. He hadn't been able to figure it out once.

Sam drove them out past the town limits, towards the farming properties, and then took a left onto what seemed to be a dirt road. Blaine frowned.

"Uh, are we allowed to be out here?" he asked. "Isn't this private property?"

Sam cast him a quick, reassuring glance before focusing on the road again. "It is," he admitted, "but it's fine. I've got permission to be out here, I promise."

"But  _why_ are we out here?" the other boy persisted as the car climbed a small hill, and he bit his lip, seeing frost on the ground and praying that Sam didn't find any black ice to skid on. The last thing he wanted was for them to wind up wrapped around a tree in the middle of God-only-knew-where.

"You'll see, B. We're almost there."

They came to a clearing and Sam pulled the car over and parked it. Blaine was mildly surprised to note another couple of cars also parked in the area. "Okay, we have to walk from here."

Blaine opened the door and then promptly shut it, turning back to stare at Sam like he'd grown an extra head. "Are you insane? It's  _freezing_  out there!" He peered out the window, eyes widening. "And...is that...? Sam, there's snow!"

Sam reached around behind the passenger seat and emerged with two pairs of snow boots. "Boy Scout training," he said with a smug smile, "always come prepared."

Blaine shucked his sneakers and put on the boots, thankful for the extra insulation and grip they'd provide. Suddenly he wondered if maybe he should have just sucked it up and taken Sam to Breadstix again.

Sam bounced up and down like a kid on Christmas morning and gestured for Blaine to hurry. "Come on!" he beamed, opening the driver's side door. "You're gonna love this!"

Blaine grumbled about the cold but did as told, slamming the door with a bit too much force as Sam retrieved a backpack from the trunk. "Now what?"

"Now we walk," Sam said, taking off down a path that was obviously cleared pretty regularly. Blaine jogged carefully to catch up to him.

After another five minutes of walking uphill, they came to another clearing—this one blanketed in thick, fluffy white snow—and Blaine could hear the unmistakable sound of children's laughter drifting across on the breeze. Sam was still walking forward, boots crunching over the snow covered ground and Blaine continued to follow, despite the fact that his nose felt as though it might fall off at any second.

"Okay, B, we're gonna climb this hill here, but you're going to have to close your eyes and trust me."

"Wait...what?" Blaine stopped to stare at Sam. "You want me to climb up a snow covered hill with my eyes closed? Oh,  _sure,_  that's not going to end badly  _at_   _all_."

Sam laughed and gripped his gloved hand with his own. "I've got you, B, just trust me."

So, despite every single one of his nerve endings protesting, Blaine did. The sounds he'd heard earlier seemed to get louder the closer he got to the peak.

"Okay, B, you can open your eyes now," he could hear Sam smiling.

With trepidation he complied, blinking a few times at the scene in front of him. There was a wide expanse of thick snow as far as the eye could see, with a number of hills and banks across the area. And there were families out there: building snowmen, having snowball fights, some even sledding...it was amazing. He turned to Sam, amazement stretching his eyes wide. "Where  _are_  we?"

" _Way_  out the back of McCullough's Farm," Sam supplied. "Rachel told me about it. Apparently, because of the way the land lies and the elevation or whatever, it snows here first every winter and it just builds up creating this little adventure park...and people are welcome to come out and enjoy it. Her dads used to bring her up here a lot, apparently." He squeezed Blaine's hand. "C'mon, there's more."

" _More_?"

Sam grinned and started them on their walk down the hill, towards all the action below. He waved at a few people as they passed through, striding with purpose towards a group of familiar faces.

"You made it!" Rachel squealed as they approached, breaking free from her fathers and throwing her arms around Blaine. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," Blaine smiled at her, before nodding at her parents. "Hi Mist-"

"Blaine, you've been told before."

He blushed. "Sorry, Hiram. Leroy. Some habits die hard and all."

Sam, meanwhile, had already seemingly greeted the men and retrieved a sled, leaving his backpack with the men for now. "Thanks for looking after this for me," he said as he walked back over to Blaine, "I wanted to keep the surprise."

"You're more than welcome, Sam. It was time for our annual trip out here anyway," Leroy replied, extending his arm to his daughter. "Come on, Rach, leave the boys to their date."

Rachel beamed and nodded, pecking both Blaine and Sam on the cheek. "Have fun," she told them, before scampering off to the snowman her fathers were building.

"You ready for some sledding action?" Sam asked him, his eyes twinkling.

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "I haven't been sledding since I was, like, five."

"Then we shouldn't waste any more time!" He hefted the solid looking sled under his arm and trudged to a substantial looking hill, confident that Blaine was following. Together, they carried the sled to the top and positioned it at the crest of the hill.

"You wanna go by yourself or together?" Sam asked, gesturing for Blaine to sit.

Feeling particularly bold—and extremely excitable now that he was on the verge of actually experiencing his surprise—he smiled up at Sam and scooted forward. "Well, this  _is_  a date, so..."

The blond was pressed up against his back within seconds.

Suddenly it seemed like a stupid move. He could feel the warmth of Sam's body pressing in to his, Sam's breath misting over the back of his neck. He swallowed roughly as Sam shifted, bracketing him with his long, muscular legs. The blond's arms wrapped themselves around his waist as he leant forward and gripped the handles.

"Ready?" Sam asked, rocking the sled forward experimentally.

Blaine nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Go!" Sam cried, launching them down the hill.

Blaine whooped as they rushed down the snow-covered ground, the wind blowing his hair around like crazy and making his eyes water. They raced towards the snowbank at the bottom, both boys well aware that they wouldn't stop in time. Sure enough, they crashed into the wall of snow, falling off the sled, laughing and uninjured.

"Wanna go again?" Sam asked; already back up on his feet and dusting off the snow from his pants.

Blaine beamed and nodded, and they repeated the process another ten times before Sam declared it was time they headed back to the Berrys, where he retrieved his backpack and pulled out a thick, insulated picnic blanket, two thermoses and some paper cups.

From the first thermos he poured two cups of steaming soup—Blaine was startled to realize it was the recipe he'd left Mary all those weeks ago—and then, following that, the second thermos contained a decadent hot chocolate. Blaine guzzled both the meal and the sweet drink down greedily, surprised at just how hungry he was after all the exertion from sledding.

He stretched out on the blanket, leaning against Sam, cradling his second cup of hot chocolate. "This was awesome, Sam," he said earnestly, "the whole date. You're going to make some girl really lucky someday." He didn't want to admit that the words actually hurt to say. He took another sip of the drink, savoring the way the warmth spread through him as he did.

"What'd I tell you?" Sam teased back, unaware of the track Blaine's thoughts had taken. "I'm the perfect boyfriend, right?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Yeah," he forced a smile, his eyes getting bright so he immediately hugged Sam so he wouldn't see it, "the best."

In fact, if he hadn't known any better, he'd almost believe that Sam enjoyed their dates as much as he did.

 

-?-

"Merry Christmas!" Stevie and Stacy chorused as Blaine stepped through the front door of the Evans house after Sam, running straight past their brother to throw their arms around their guest. Blaine managed to splutter a greeting to Mary and Dwight before the kids dragged him aside.

"Thanks, guys, really," Sam muttered sarcastically, well aware that he was being ignored, the two kids babbling excitedly at Blaine.

Sam shook his head, giving his parents a baleful look as even Pearl—his beloved pet—bypassed him and nuzzled at Blaine's leg. "Do you guys wanna ignore me too?" he asked with a sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

"I might if you're not more welcoming of our guest, Sam," Mary teased while he peeled off his jacket. She cocked her head to the side.

Sam turned to his mother with a smile, "Do you need any help with dinner?"

 

-?-

Blaine gaped at the dining table when Mary and Sam called them all to dinner. In the center sat a large, golden turkey, surrounded by platters of roasted potatoes and pumpkin, a large bowl of green beans, another of peas, and a tray of juicy corn cobs with pats of butter slowly melting over the top of them.

"Mrs... _Mary,"_  he breathed in awe, "this looks amazing. Like something out of a magazine. I...I just..." He had never experienced a Christmas spread so elaborate; on the few times (okay,  _once_ ) his own family had Christmas dinner with just the three of them—Cooper was a Buddhist that year and didn't believe in Christmas—they had ordered out and it consisted of a too-dry chicken and over-steamed vegetables, not that his parents stayed long enough at the table to notice. "Wow."

Dwight laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Go on, Son," he pushed Blaine forward as he made his way to his own customary seat, "sit."

Sam was pouring glasses of sparkling apple juice for the two youngest kids before setting a flute of champagne in front of each of his parents and then another in front Blaine, who looked up at him with wide eyes.

"It's Christmas," Sam said, as though it explained everything. "And it's only one glass. We switch to soda or juice after this." He took his seat and raised his own flute. "Merry Christmas!" he toasted.

Everyone echoed the sentiment and reached across the table to clink glassware, before sipping at their beverages. Blaine chuckled at the serious expression on Stevie's face, the boy trying his best to mimic his father and older brother.

Dwight carved the turkey and soon everyone was passing plates and chatting as casually as they always did, Blaine relishing the familiarity.

"So, boys," Dwight began, looking between Sam and Blaine, "how are things at school?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Really, Dad? School? We're on Christmas Break right now. We don't wanna talk about school. Right, B?"

Blaine hated it when Sam did this, knowing full well that Blaine was quite happy to answer any and all of Mary and Dwight's questions. He sighed and turned to Dwight, "It's been pretty good," he confessed. "Lacrosse is on hold until the frost clears—"

"About that...isn't lacrosse usually a spring sport?"

Blaine nodded. "It is, but the Western Ohio district changed it around this year because the competition dates clashed with some sort of political event? I don't know, I overheard Coach Beiste blaming Coach Sylvester earlier this season, but I couldn't tell you why."

Sam snorted. "Makes sense to me," he shrugged. "Coach Sylvester's unhinged. I wouldn't put it past her to have changed the entire school district's sporting schedule just to screw over one person."

Blaine arched an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "She's crazy, B. I'd avoid her if you can."

"And here I was, thinking I'd join the Cheerios."

Sam almost choked on the green bean he'd practically inhaled at that. "You'd look hot in the tight red pants," he teased, trying to regain his equilibrium.

" _Sam_ ," Mary cut in warningly, tilting her head in Stevie and Stacy's direction while amusement glinted in her eyes.

"Sorry," he ducked his head.

Blaine, meanwhile, was trying to control his blush. He took another bite of his turkey, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. "This is  _so good,_  Mary," he praised genuinely, like he did every time he ate at Sam's house.

"Wait 'til ya see dessert," Stacy told him, reaching for another small corn cob, almost knocking over her glass in the process. Blaine rescued it—and the table—quickly.

"Why?" He asked, knowing that Mary would have outdone herself with dessert, too.

"Mom's made punkin' pie," the little girl beamed at him, "with whipped cream!"

Blaine salivated at the thought.

"And apple pie with vanilla ice cream," Stevie supplied.

Sam nodded. "And there's a plate of Christmas sugar cookies for when we open presents."

Blaine looked down at his plate—which he'd greedily piled high with food—and groaned. "I'm walking away from here with diabetes, aren't I?"

Dwight laughed. "Walking? Try  _rolling,_  Son."

"You don't have to eat it all, Blaine," Mary cut in, taking pity on him, "I'll be sure to wrap up leftovers and send them home with you. I won't be offended if you don't finish everything on your plate."

"But..." This grated against everything his parents had ever taught him about table manners. Mary pinned him with a stare that said she knew exactly what he was thinking and didn't agree. He sighed. "Okay."

Stevie and Stacy kept them entertained through the rest of the meal, bantering about who had received the best presents from Santa (Mary had intervened and forced them to acknowledge that Santa had spoiled them both equally).

Blaine then surrendered to a small slice of each pie, knowing that his stomach would protest but unable to care. They were, as he'd predicted, absolutely delicious.

He'd no sooner set down his dessert spoon when Stacy grabbed his arm and dragged him forcefully to the lounge room, declaring that it was present time, and chastising him for taking the longest to finish his food, as they'd all been waiting on him. Dwight then forced her to apologize for making their guest feel guilty, which she did sullenly.

"Did I hear something about presents?" Blaine asked, cheering the little girl up almost immediately.

She nodded, her pigtails swishing almost violently. "Uh huh. We all sit around the tree and open 'em," she explained.

"Can I open anyone's presents?" Blaine couldn't help teasing, grinning at the scandalized look on her face. "Because there's an awesome looking pink one that—"

"No! Silly Blaine! You gotta open your own presents," Stacy frowned. "And you gotta wait for Daddy to hand 'em to you, you can't just take 'em from under the tree."

She was so serious that Blaine struggled to keep a straight face and agree. He nodded, forcing an "oh, okay" that was almost choked by suppressed laughter.

The rest of the Evans family sat cross legged on the lounge room floor while Dwight crawled forward and started passing across gifts, not stopping until the space under the tree was bare. Blaine was surprised—and a little bemused—to discover that he had just as many gifts as Sam.

"You guys really shouldn't have," he protested, suddenly feeling as though his gifts to them were inadequate.

"Don't be stupid, B," Sam nudged him with his shoulder, already unwrapping his first gift, "it's Christmas."

"And you're family, Blaine," Mary supplied gently.

"But—"

"And just so we're clear," she continued, ignoring his continued protestations, "you'll always be family, regardless of the status of your relationship with Sam. Do you understand?"

Blaine blamed the glass of champagne for the tears prickling at the back of his eyes and nodded, swallowing over the lump in his throat.

 

-?-

Later that night, a few hours after Stacy and Stevie had been sent to bed, Sam began yawning. It had already been decided that Blaine would stay the night, Mary deeming it too late for Sam to be driving on the icy roads. Besides, it was Christmas and she refused for Blaine to be alone.

"You boys should turn in for the night," Dwight suggested, Mary nodding her agreement, trying to stifle her own yawn. Dwight chuckled and moved to stand, "And so should we."

"Mmm," Mary murmured, "Blaine, are you alright with the couch? I'll get you a pillow and—"

"Seriously, Mom?" Sam sighed. "Can't he just bunk with me? It's not like it's any different to when I stay at his place."

Mary shrugged. She knew that at Blaine's place that they shared a bed out of necessity, knowing that Blaine didn't have room for a couch.

"If he's comfortable with that, I just thought he might want some extra space while he has the option. Don't think I haven't seen how much space you take up when you're sleeping, Sam," she teased gently, "all sprawled out across the bed. I'm willing to bet you're a blanket-hog as well."

"He totally is," Blaine confirmed, ducking a cushion as it was lobbed at him. "But I'm used to it. I don't want to be a bother, so I'm happy bunking with him." There was no way he'd admit that he looked forward to sleeping next to his friend...that would just make things weird.

"Okay," she acquiesced easily, "as long as you're sure. You know where everything is if you need anything."

Blaine nodded and found himself being hugged and kissed on the cheek, Mary then repeating the gesture on Sam. "Goodnight, boys. Merry Christmas."

 

-?-

Blaine paced anxiously in the bedroom room waiting for Sam to come back from the bathroom. Sam had let him use it first and while Sam was there, he dug out his other present for Sam—the coat, scarf, beanie and gloves—from his bag. He stopped his pacing and looked at the bed. Sitting there was a brightly-wrapped package for Sam and now Blaine was worried that he might have gone overboard.

Blaine was worried that Sam might read more into it, or rather, would see right through Blaine and realize that Blaine was feeling more than he ought to and their relationship, either the fake romantic one or the real platonic one (which had ceased being platonic, at least on Blaine's side), would end.

Not that Sam was the kind of guy who would do that. Blaine told himself that Sam wasn't like that. If Sam learned the truth, he would be gracious about it. Blaine was sure. Pretty sure. Almost completely positive. Maybe.

Blaine started pacing again and decided to hide the coat away. It was too much. He picked up the present but then stopped again. He cursed himself for having wrapped up the beanie, scarf and gloves in the same package. If it was separate, he could have given that one and kept the coat. Scarves and gloves and hats weren't as big a deal as coats, right? But then he thought of Sam shivering in the cold and decided that to hell with what Sam thought, Sam needed a coat. Maybe he could give it after Christmas? So it didn't feel as loaded as it was now?

All thought ceased as he heard Sam opening the door.  _Too late now._ Blaine took a deep breath; put the present back down on the bed as Sam walked in the room. Blaine saw his eyes zero in on the present on the bed. It was kind of hard to miss. Blaine looked down at his feet, biting his lip in nervousness.

"Um, B?" Blaine looked up when he heard Sam's voice. He saw Sam sitting on the bed and had pulled the package close. From its position Blaine guessed that Sam had read the card and figured out that the present was his.

Blaine blushed and looked back down. He shrugged and said, "I got you another present."

"You did?" Blaine looked up again when he heard the pleased excitement in Sam's voice. "When? Wait, it was in the mall, right? While I was out getting your gift?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I hid it among Kurt's purchases."

"Sneaky," Sam said with a grin, "I approve." Then his eyes lit up, "Can I open it?" And Blaine immediately saw the resemblance between him and Stevie.

"Of course," Blaine said and with a whoop, Sam gleefully started ripping the wrapping paper.

Blaine smiled as he watched Sam unwrap his present. He bit his lip again and he unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself as Sam quieted down when Blaine's gift to him lay revealed. Sam's eyes were wide and one of his hands was tentatively feeling the quality of the material.

Blaine's heart suddenly clenched. Was it too much? Was Sam freaking out? "Sam?"

Sam looked up at him, and there was something unreadable in his eyes. That made Blaine really anxious as he was usually really good at reading Sam. "I'm sorry," Blaine said. He needed to fix this. He didn't want Sam mad at him or anything. "I don't mean anything by it, I just noticed that you outgrew your old coat and you were cold...it's no reflection on you or your family I just...I just hated seeing you so col—"

Blaine's nervous rant was cut-off when he was enveloped in a strong hug.

"B, it's okay," Sam reassured him, "I'm sorry, I was just...well  _surprised_  doesn't really describe it you know?"

Blaine pulled back enough to look up at Sam and saw Sam's soft smile. "Thank you," the blond whispered. "Thank you for the coat, and for...noticing."

"I always see you, Sam," Blaine said, he was suddenly relieved that he had acted on his impulse and bought Sam the coat. Sam was probably downplaying the cold so that his parents won't 'waste' money on him.

Sam's smile got even brighter and Blaine found himself engulfed once again. Then Sam slowly released him and smiled. "Help me into my new coat?"

Blaine complied happily, unable to help himself as he let his hands linger on Sam's broad shoulders and arms on the pretense of straightening the coat. Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Oh wow, B, this is great!" Sam exclaimed. Blaine smiled as he wrapped Sam's new scarf around his neck loosely while Sam buttoned up. Blaine then reached over and grabbed the gloves and beanie. He gave Sam the gloves but put on the beanie on Sam himself. He saw Sam watching him indulgently while he artfully arranged Sam's hair around the hat.

When he was done, Sam grinned impishly and asked. "Do I pass inspection?"

Blaine had to control himself and made a show of calmly looking Sam up-and-down, straightening the coat—a little envious that Kurt had picked Sam's size and cut perfectly—and shrugged. Despite the coat clashing with the sweat pants and thick, Bugs Bunny socks Sam was wearing, he looked great. But Blaine said with a studied nonchalance, "You'll do."

"Thank you, B," Sam smiled at Blaine's antics. "It really is something else."

Blaine blushed at Sam's praise but then his nerves got ahold of him again and he began to babble. "It's not too much is it? I know this is one more than we agreed on, well two—the scarf, gloves and beanie were a set—and I didn't want you to open it earlier because I didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea so I—"

"Blaine! Blaine!" Sam interrupted him while gently holding on to his shoulders. "It really is fine." Then Sam looked adorably sheepish. "The thing is, I kinda got you another gift, too."

Blaine eyes went wide and Sam reached for something in his closet, pulling out a badly-wrapped package. Blaine smiled as he realized that his present earlier from Sam under the Evans' tree was probably wrapped by Sam's mom, this one Sam had clearly wrapped all by himself.

"I know it doesn't look like much..." Sam started to say when Blaine immediately interrupted him.

"Thank you, Sam," Blaine took the gift from Sam and smiled as he read the card aloud. "'My dearest Blaineybear, Merry Christmas! Your Sam'." Blaine looked up to a blushing Sam.

"Rachel was there so I had to sign it like that or she would have been suspicious."

"I meant the 'Blaineybear', Sam," Blaine said trying hard to look serious but he could feel his mouth betraying him by smiling.

"I don't understand," Sam said seemingly confused but Blaine could see the twinkle in Sam's eyes. "But you  _are_  my Blaineybear!"

"Honest to... _pet_   _names_ , Sam. We had a rule," Blaine said exasperatedly but still secretly pleased. Not that he'd ever say anything as it gave Sam so much pleasure in breaking that rule.

"Rule Six was that I don't call you 'dude'," Sam said in his best lawyerly voice. "And I have followed that rule religiously. Now," Sam interrupted Blaine as he was about to retort with a finger to Blaine's lips, "can you please open it?"

Blaine grinned and began to carefully pry the wrapping apart. He first suspected that it was a book but when the wrapping came off he could see it was a photo album. Sam started talking nervously as Blaine opened it.

"I know it isn't as great as the coat and stuff but I just wanted to show you that you aren't alone," Sam said as Blaine looked at photos that Sam had put in: Blaine training on the field and actual games (even the one where a sweaty Blaine hugged a grossed-out Kurt and Rachel laughing on the side), a picture of Coach Beiste, another set of Alex and the shop, tons of shots of rehearsals (and an amazing shot of him and Mike caught in mid-leap, almost like they were flying) and the show itself, and finally, shots of Blaine with Sam, Mike and the others just hanging out. There was even one of him and Sam locking lips in the cafeteria, most likely a screenshot from the YouTube video. There were still a number of pages that were blank.

"Everyone chipped in, giving me copies of their photos, even making new ones. Rachel helped me put it together 'cause there were so many. She even offered to wrap it for me but wanted to do it. You have us, Blaine. I hope this will help remind you of that. And look, see? More space to add new stuff in."

Blaine just stared at the photos. The Blaine in them looked happy. Was he actually happy? Blaine realized that between all the drama that yes, he  _was_  happy. This Blaine looked like he had a life, and a good one at that.  _How wonderful of Sam_ , Blaine thought,  _to gift me with a good life._

"Blaine?" Sam's anxious question brought Blaine back.

"It's an incredible gift, Sam," Blaine answered. "Let's start filling those blank pages, yeah?"

"Sure!" Sam exclaimed, the relief in his voice palpable.

Blaine took some photos of him and Sam, especially of Sam modelling his new coat, before they settled on the bed.

As he attempted to drift off to sleep, only marginally distracted by the body beside him, Blaine was determined to fill that album with happy memories.

Sam, meanwhile, also stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. Tonight, exchanging those gifts had felt like the perfect time to finally be honest and tell Blaine how he felt...and he'd choked. He was disappointed in himself for not having the courage to say the words that had been playing on his mind for the last couple of weeks.

But all hope wasn't lost, he realized, thinking of how thoughtful Blaine's gift was to him; there was always tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (TheFauxMe) - It's been a little while, but this is a pretty long chapter to make up for the wait. Loki and I are both excited and sad that it's starting to draw to an end, but we're so happy that so many of you are still enjoying it. When you review -even if I haven't responded yet- it validates why we write and we love hearing from each and every one of you, even if you have some criticisms we absolutely love to know what you think. We aim to reply to everyone soon. :)
> 
> Oh, and congrats to grimmion for correctly guessing Scent Of A Woman as the film reference for not only last chapter but a lot of Blaine's back plot.
> 
> And now, on with the show!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have been waiting for this, here it is. I thank you for your patience. I actually had very little to do with this chapter (the version I wanted is a lot more "armchair psychologist" and "for every action there has to be narrative justice!!!") and while I'm not 100% happy with it, I've totally come around and agree that this is the right way to go.
> 
> To give credit where credit is due, another friend of ours, gotta b writin, did the lion-share of work on this chapter. You can find his stories on FFN.
> 
> The good news is Faux is getting ready to write again and this story IS wrapping up so it won't be long before we can call this complete.
> 
> It's been a while but please enjoy it!

Sam squinted as light suddenly registered in his mind from the other side of his eyelids. He groaned as a frown appeared on his face and he turned his head to the side, attempting to shut out the annoying presence that was threatening to pull him out of the comfort of his time in bed with Blaine… 

 _Blaine?_  

Sam opened finally opened his eyes and was surprised to find Blaine awake and frowning at the ceiling. It took a second for his brain to catch up to his present moment, pushing the teenage hormonal thoughts out of his consciousness. Flashes of the previous days flew through his mind: his talk with Mike, his snow date with Blaine at McCullough’s Farm, Christmas dinner with his family and Blaine, their exchanging of gifts, falling asleep together after whispering “Merry Christmas” to a softly snoring Blaine... 

Sam blinked, adjusting to the fact that it was the day after Christmas and he was lying next to his best friend and secret, or at least a secret to Blaine, crush. He swallowed the feelings and clichéd, metaphorical butterflies that were fluttering in his belly. He was in bed with his _best friend_. He needed to remember that. 

"What's up?"he asked, skipping the usual 'Good Morning' greeting and facing Blaine properly, furrowing his own brow in concern. Why did the shorter boy look so concerned? 

Blaine startled, clearly not noticing that Sam had been awake, before staring back up at the faded and peeling glow-in-the-dark stars above him. He traced the worn adhesive stickers with his eyes, noticing the way the corners of a few were starting to pull away from the ceiling. 

"I'm just thinking," Blaine admitted quietly. His eyelashes fluttered as he turned his eyes downward, purposely away from Sam’s green orbs. 

"Yesterday was perfect," he sighed and shifted onto his own side, now facing Sam, struggling to meet his gaze, "it was the best Christmas I've ever had." 

Sam rolled his eyes. "You don't have to lay it on so thick," he murmured playfully. "It's just me here. Mom doesn't have my room bugged or anything." 

Sam frowned before adding, "At least I hope not. 'Cos, otherwise, I need to find a new place to jerk-" 

" _Sam!_ " Blaine forced a wince, grateful for the dull light of Sam's room concealing his blush. Now _there_ was an image he could have done without while he was in Sam's bed. He subtly shifted his body backwards, away from Sam, hoping that the blond wouldn’t notice his movements or the affect that those words had on his lower regions. Blaine cursed his teenage hormones and the influence they had on his body. He closed his eyes, choosing to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on their actual conversation. 

"And I'm not exaggerating. This really was the best Christmas I've had." 

"Seriously?" 

Blaine nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Most years, my parents and I would eat out, or have a small party with their colleagues and associates," his parents didn't really do 'friends' as such, "and I've never..." 

He licked his lips, trying to explain himself properly. He struggled, unsure of how to communicate his thoughts without sounding overly-emotional or silly. His mouth opened and closed a few times, always deciding that his words weren’t good enough. 

"This…here at your house...it was about…family. I guess…I've never had that before." 

Sam blinked at him, scowling in consternation. He _really_ didn't like Blaine's parents. He wasn’t sure if it was the friend, the fake boyfriend, or the secretly smitten teenager at the helm of his anger in that moment, but all Sam knew was that he wanted to scream at the Andersons for forcing Blaine to say those words. 

Sam was about to open his mouth and tell Blaine how horrible his parents were, when his eyes caught sight of the look on Blaine’s face. 

"B..." 

"It's fine," he assured his friend as he shook his head in defiance, "that's all over now. And I've got a new family, Sam. Yesterday proved that. Your gift last night…it proved that. So…thank you for helping me get to this stage." 

Blaine took a breath, knowing that he was getting sappy—but if ever there was a time for it, it was Christmas. He avoided Sam’s eyes, feeling vulnerable after his admission. 

"Aww, dude," Sam smiled as his voice took on a playful tone, shifting closer. "C'mon! Hug it out!" 

"Wait, wha—" 

Blaine suddenly found himself in the arms of a very shirtless Sam before he could blink. 

He swallowed roughly. 

He remained unnaturally and uncomfortably still in his “boyfriend’s” arms, very much aware of the heat that was emanating from Sam and his muscles. Once again, Blaine tried his best to unnoticeably pull his body away, or at least the lower half of him before things got any more uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to feel how much Blaine was enjoying the moment (despite his best efforts!) and be disgusted by his gross betrayal of trust. 

 _“This is bad,”_ Blaine told himself, _“very,_ very  _bad.”_  

Sure, he'd gotten used to how tactile Sam was, but never with so little clothing involved, which made the embrace feel far more intimate than it should be between two friends who may or may not be pretending to date. It was one thing to receive a sideways hug from the blond as they played a round of Call of Duty or a hand squeeze as they sat in the lunchroom, but it was a very different thing to feel Sam’s biceps flex around him and the warmth and smoothness of his chest. He closed his eyes and did his best to fight the urge within him that wanted to run his hands across the back muscles that were calling out to him. He balled his fists in a harsh rebellion to his teenaged-fuelled instincts. 

Blaine was suddenly aware of how little actually separated their bodies—a thin layer of cotton of his t-shirt and the boxer shorts that the two were wearing. The realization was not helping his plight. 

He could only imagine how red his face was as all his thoughts attacked his mind. Blaine let out a small squeak, thankful that his blushing was not within Sam’s line of vision. 

How had he let things get this complicated? It had to stop. He pulled back and quickly excused himself to the bathroom, missing the look of longing Sam cast in his direction as he scampered for the door. 

-?-

Sam sighed and stirred his hot cocoa slowly, mesmerized by the patterns within the various shades of the chocolate liquid, preoccupied once again by thoughts of Blaine. It had been a few days since Christmas and, despite promising himself that he'd be honest and tell Blaine how he felt, he'd put it off each and every time an opportunity arose. The levels of cowardice were laughable to Sam, yet he was still unable to find the courage that he needed to talk to his friend. School would be starting again soon, and he felt like he'd completely screwed the entire situation up. 

"Alright," his father's voice broke into his musings, the man taking a seat across the table from him. "What's going on?" 

The question hung in the air like a damning arrow, daring Sam to try and dodge it. Dwight wasn’t usually a direct man, but when he chose to be, he generally found whatever he was looking for—and his son was well aware of that fact. 

Sam considered brushing the question off and saying that there was nothing going on, but his Dad's face told him that there was no way he was getting out of the discussion. Rather than going back and forth for a few rounds, denying and untruthfully assuring his father that everything was fine, Sam decided to just bite the bullet and 'fess up. 

"I think," he started slowly, trying to find the best way to phrase his predicament, "…I think I've done something stupid." 

Dwight arched an eyebrow. Words were not needed. 

"Or…I mean…I think the fact that I haven't… _done_ something is the something stupid that I've done." 

"You're not making a lot of sense, Son,” Dwight said with a small encouraging smile as he leaned forward and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Why don't you start at the beginning?" 

Sam licked his lips and looked down into his mug. It was his moment. The time had finally come to confess to his father how he truly felt for Blaine. Logically, he knew that his father wouldn’t be angry. He knew that his father would be accepting of the fact, every single conversation and action leading up to their current conversation argued that it’d be fine…but still, Sam couldn’t help the quickening of his heart and the clamminess of his palms. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth and silently praying that his words came out the way he needed them to. 

"I worked out a few weeks ago that I, uh…that I…like Blaine. Like, y'know, more than just platonically," he was pleased that Mike had taught him that word because it made him feel more adult about the situation and not like the small child who was just telling his father that he liked another boy. 

When Dwight nodded, completely unsurprised by the announcement, Sam felt an invisible load fall from his shoulders. It was as though he had been holding in a breath that he didn’t even know was there. He couldn't fight the beaming smile that displayed itself across his lips, nor did he want to. 

"But instead of telling him,” Sam continued with a renewed vigour, “I decided to take things slow…you know? I mean, not _slow_ like that, but slow like…like I wanted to get to know him as the guy I actually like, and not the guy that I have Halo tournaments with.” 

Sam didn’t notice the proud smile that had appeared on Dwight’s face. 

“I took him on dates and I've been kinda trying to _show_ him how I feel. I don’t wanna freak him out or anything, but...but I don't think he thinks it's anything other than me sticking with our original plan. I should’ve said something, Dad. I should’ve…" 

Dwight fought the urge to tell his son that he had told him so, that he had warned him that their plan, the very same plan that Dwight and Mary had been against from the beginning, was now causing him a bigger headache than he could have anticipated. 

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "And I wanted to…I was going to tell him the truth at Christmas, I really was…but I chickened out. And I _keep_ chickening out. I can’t Dad. I can’t do it." 

"And why might that be, do you think?" Dwight asked. 

"I'm scared," came his automatic response, his words sounding hollow. 

“Why?” 

When Dwight met his son’s eyes, his heart broke in half. Sam’s entire life, Dwight had always told the boy that he had a horrible poker face, that his eyes always spilled his secrets. In that very moment, Dwight hurt for his son. He felt the boy’s pain and saw how affected he was by his predicament. As a father, Dwight wanted to reach out and shield his son from any and all pain that he was experiencing, but as a man, he knew that Sam had grown to the age where he could no longer be saved by his superhero Dad. 

"I...he's my best friend, Dad, and this is going to change things, make them weird if he doesn't feel the same way, and I don't want that to happen. I don’t wanna lose him. I mean, what if he freaks out? What if he feels all weird and doesn’t wanna be around me? I don’t want that. It’s not worth losing my best friend, Dad…" 

"Can I be honest here?" Dwight knew that he and his wife had resolved to stay out of the whole fake-dating mess while Sam got his thoughts in order and he knew that he needed to let his son figure things out for himself, but he also knew that Sam was just like him—that he sometimes needed a gentle push in the right direction. 

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've seen the way that kid looks at you, Sam. I think that you might find that he feels the same way you do." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

Sam sat back, relieved as another load fell from him, his second of the day. Part of him was elated at his father’s words, encouraged to the point that he wanted to bolt from his seat and sprint all the way to Blaine’s building, shouting how he felt and giving his “boyfriend” the grand romantic gesture that he so very much deserved. But there was also another part of him, a part that still couldn’t help but be sceptical and remind himself that his father was not a mind reader. That part said that there was still a very realistic chance that things could go horribly and he’d be left without his friend. 

Still, Sam was an optimist at heart, and he couldn’t help but remember that his dad was very rarely wrong with his advice. The man was practically an oracle. If he was right with what he said about Blaine returning the same feelings, then everything had changed. 

-?-

This was it: their final game. 

Blaine sighed as he stretched separately from the rest of the lacrosse team. He looked over and took in the sight of their camaraderie as each team member chatted to one another as they prepared themselves for the game. He sighed, his breath coming out almost invisibly from his mouth, reminded once again that he would forever be an outsider looking in with his teammates—if you could even call them a team. 

Things had not gotten much better for Blaine. Sure, his clothes weren’t disappearing anymore when he got out of his showers, but he was far from splitting a pizza with the other boys. A scowl formed on his brows as he turned his eyes away from the elusive prize that was forever out of his grasp and concentrated on something he _could_ actually do: get ready to win his game. 

With that thought, his mind returned to his original focus. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. The day he'd been dreading, facing off against his old team, had finally appeared. 

He was worried, not only for the game, but for the fact that he would be face to face with the same people who had instigated his exile. The blood in his body began to boil, if only slightly, at the thought of seeing them. Despite his fear and uncertainty, there was a definite part of Blaine that was still very angry for what had happened. He had never considered himself a violent person by any means, instead always choosing to solve his problems with words, but he would have been lying if he said that he didn’t plan on being a little more forceful on the field. 

He did his best to ignore the other team, the army of Brutuses, taking to the field, feeling the stares from his former friends searing his skin like a hot brand, marking him as the pariah that he was. He did his best to seem unaffected, all the while feeling his insides crashing around him like wild animals afraid of their confinement. The Dalton Academy Kingfishers were just another team, he reminded himself. Another team to beat. That was all. 

"Alright, Ladies, huddle up!" Coach Beiste barked, the command pulling the Titans to their feet. 

Blaine hung back a little, still unwilling to put himself so close to the other team members, but Coach was having none of that. She slung a meaty arm across the empty space between them, grabbed a fistful of his jersey, and pulled him into the rest of the group, right next to Puck. The mohawked-teen just nodded at him before turning his attention to their coach. Blaine did his best to focus on the words spewing from Coach Beiste's mouth, but part of him was still focused on the team on the other side of the field. Try as he might, Blaine couldn't help but see their faces, mocking and scornful, as he walked out of Dalton Academy for the last time. 

The game became a bit of a blur for Blaine. The Kingfishers were brutal from the first blast of the starting whistle all the way through to the end of the first half. Call after call was made as the Dalton team fouled their way through the game. Elbows were thrown and cheap shots were taken while the referee had his back turned. The violence utilized by his former friends, combined with his already distracted state of mind, served to completely throw Blaine off his game. He was making mistakes left and right: he accidentally passed to one of the Kingfishers, he botched numerous passes, and still had yet to score a goal (despite his numerous attempts). 

Sebastian slung a few nasty words during the first half, as if sensing Blaine's Achilles Heel, the rest of the Dalton boys in earshot sniggering along. Not that it would have taken a genius to work out his weakness, mind you. The barbs achieved their purpose, putting Blaine further off his game, until the half-time whistle put an end to his misery. If they'd held any guilt for the way they'd treated Blaine when he'd been one of them, they didn't show it. He'd hoped—foolishly, he knew—that at least a few of them, the boys he'd been closest to, might have regretted their actions...but, apparently, that hadn't been the case. 

Despite the fact that he knew that there was still bad blood between him and his former schoolmates, Blaine couldn't help but feel hurt from their behavior. It was foolish, he knew, but the little boy that just wanted to be accepted was still there, nonetheless, alone and without a friend to lean on. He held his head low, defeated, as the McKinley Titans trudged down the field and into their locker room, careful to once again keep his distance from the rest of the players. 

Coach Beiste yelled for a few minutes before she stepped out of the room, insisting that they were all playing like a team of five year olds, that she refused to even give a pep talk to a group who didn't even care enough to play as a team. Random unintelligible phrases faded away as she slammed the door behind her. For her part, it was probably without forethought, as, if she had been thinking clearly, she wouldn't have left her incensed, volatile, fragmented team alone to duke things out themselves. 

So Blaine should have expected the reaction from his team, really, but he was still surprised when they rounded on him. He was like the sacrificial lamb that had been chosen by the villagers to appease the angry gods. Every tragedy needed a scapegoat, someone to point a finger at and blame, and the Titans had elected Blaine as their patsy. Their words were acid to his ears, leaving their mark long after the initial contact. 

"Dude, what the hell? Are you even trying out there?!" one of the guys spat, grabbing for his bottle of water. 

Another nodded as he spit, "There's only one reason you're still on this team, and you just shit all over it!" 

"I didn't know you still played for their team, fag!" 

"Maybe you can pull your tampon out and start playing in the second half!" 

"Hey fairy, get your head out of your vagina and play! We should have brought in a freshman to play for you. They'd probably do better!" 

"You're a waste of that uniform..." 

"Fuck you, faggot! You're losin' us the game!" 

Blaine scowled, but refused to get drawn in to the argument. He growled to himself, averting his eyes, refusing to cry in that moment as his pulled some of his gear off. He sat, his back to the rest of the group, doing his best to convey the fact that he wouldn't engage in their verbal gauntlet or take their bait. He knew they wanted a reason to really lay into him, he knew that up until that moment, he had never intentionally done anything to warrant their abusive remarks. He hadn't played into their traps and he refused to change that with the round of insults. Instead, he concentrated on breathing, calming down, and fighting back the tears that were pushing against his defenses. 

Frustrated, Puck surged forward and pushed at the shorter boy's shoulder. 

"Seriously, dude! Man the hell up! We're losing. And it's your fault. Whatever your deal is, get over it fast." 

Something snapped in Blaine. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he felt a switch being flipped, his entire body ignited in a raging fire. He had had it with their abusive behavior. He had had it with their scathing words. He had had it with his former friends' betrayal and he had had it with the way they had just treated him on the field. He leapt from his seat without even realizing it and pulled himself up to his full height, as best he could, and got in the taller boy's face, refusing to be pushed around anymore. 

"Screw you, Puck!" Blaine lashed out, reacting more to being shoved than the boy's words. He pushed back with all his might, effectively catching Puck off-guard and causing him to stumble backwards before correcting himself. 

"I'm not the only guy on the field, you know! There's a whole room of guys in here that are out there, too! I'm not the only one wh—" 

"No, but you are the only one fumbling out there! Get your shit together, Mary! I don't care about your feelings right now! Suck it up! I care about winning and I care about the fact that you keep fucking up out there!" 

Face heating with both embarrassment at being called out and in anger, Blaine took another step forward into Puck's personal space. He had no idea what was possessing him, but his body and mouth were moving of their own accord. 

"Maybe I'm fumbling because you guys don't play like a team! You still don't include me in your plays, and none of you back me up when I've got the ball and their defense is coming at me!" 

"We'll maybe we'd have your back if—" 

"If what?!" Blaine screamed, his arms flying around him, frustration evident in every fibre of his being."If you weren't all a bunch of homophobic asses?! If you stopped treating me like I had the plague long enough to see that we're seriously losing because we're not playing like  a team?! What, Puck?!" 

Puckerman stared at him, for once without a retort. Blaine could hear his heavy breathing filling the room. None of the other players dared speak a word. Instead, their eyes alternated between the two forms of Puck and Blaine in the centre of the circle that they had formed around the two players. Blaine's shoulders heaved as he noticed the frozen look on Puck's face: he looked stuck. 

Blaine knew his argument held merit, that he was in the right. He knew it and Puck knew it, too. The two stared at one another, daring the other to speak. It was a few more seconds before words were even uttered. 

"So what? Are we supposed to drop our shorts and grab our ankles for you, or something? Respect is earned on this team Anderson. You expect us to just let you waltz in here with that stick up your ass and braid your hair or some shit like that? 

Blaine couldn't help but roll his eyes, "What do you me—" 

"You're stuck up, Anderson. You wanna know why you're not treated like one of us? Because you act like you're too good for all of this." 

Puck's words brought Blaine up short. It was a verbal whiplash that he hadn't expected. Stuck up? 

"We could care less about the fact that you wanna give it up to any dude that walks past you. If you wanna wear a dress and bone Evans, then do whatever the hell you want. But don't come into our school acting like you're better than us. You strut around the place like you're still one of them!" he yelled, jutting his chin towards the door and in the direction of the Dalton team's locker room. 

Blaine froze, momentarily stung by the accusation. But he couldn't refute it: he supposed, on reflection, that he had acted a little superior to the others. In part it was because he'd told himself that he was better. When they'd been bullying him, the only thing that had gotten him through was knowing that he was on the team for a reason. Hell, he'd even played better with an injury than they had. But he'd never stopped to think that maybe his attitude had been fueling their own ire and dislike, too. Really, all he'd wanted was to be treated like an equal, or at the very least ignored. This concept that his belief in himself—his personal mantra to get him through the bullying—had made things worse took him completely by surprise. 

"You think I don't want anything to do with you?" Blaine asked incredulously, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. 

"When's the last time you—" 

"What am I supposed to do, Puck?! What the hell am I supposed to do?" he yelled as he turned and addressed the rest of the stone faced locker-room inhabitants. "Am I supposed to walk up to you in the hall and say 'hi'?" Blaine's voice rose in a crescendo of anger as the words spewed from his mouth, an angry tidal wave that seemed to fuel itself. "Am I supposed to invite you over to my place to play video games? Should I have just dried my clothes after you soaked them during my shower and grabbed a pizza with you?!"

"Fine, we made things hard for you at first, I'll give you that, but when's the last time we stole your shit or soaked your clothes, huh? When's the last time we shoved you into a locker or slapped your books outta your hand?" 

It was Blaine's turn to be struck silent by the truth in Puck's words. As much as he hated to admit it, the team had left him alone for awhile. The abuse had stopped. Even though he knew the boy was right, Blaine refused to let that quench his anger. 

"And did you apologize? Did you ever—" 

"Oh grow a pair, man. We're dudes. We're not gonna sit around and talk about how we feel. We fucked up earlier, but we stopped. That's it. If you really want someone to blow you because they messed up then go join the Cheerios!" 

"I don't expect you to blow me," Blaine mumbled, annoyed that the male teenage minds surrounding him would never be able to understand that their actions warranted more than a proverbial brushing under the rug. 

"We'll good, cause we don't do that shit. That's your department," Puck offered with a smirk. Murmured agreements could be heard from the rest of the team, smiles around the room—but for the first time, those smiles weren't malicious. For the first time, those smiles were playful, teasing and not scathing. 

"Did you just make a gay joke?" Blaine asked, offering his own hesitant, but playful, smile. "Wow, Puck, I didn't know you cared." 

"Get off my nuts, dude. Let's just go out there and drill their asses and win!" 

Blaine snorted, desperately trying to hold in his laughter. 

"Screw you, man! I didn't mean it like that!" 

"Uh huh." Blaine returned a little more relaxed this time. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, shooting one of the other guys a conspiratorial wink and a shrug. "Methinks the boy doth protest too much." 

"Hey!" 

The rest of the team started laughing as they moved in and began jumping on their fearless leader. Blaine took a step back again from the group, sensing his involvement with a group pile-on to be inappropriate, before a random arm reached out and pulled him into the fold. He yelped as he felt someone else jump on his back and he laughed. He laughed and beamed. All the pressures that had been resting on his shoulders seemed to vanish into thin air; as if they were never there to begin with.

The little boy that just wanted to be accepted finally was. 

-?-

They still lost. Despite their soap opera-esque reconciliation during their half time break, and their subsequent rallying as a team on the field, the McKinley Titans still lost. Blaine's shoulders slumped with defeat as he trudged-off the field next to Puck, casting the taller boy a weary glance. 

"Relax," Puck said, his own gaze still directed straight ahead, "We're not gonna blame you." He paused. "Again." 

"You played better this half, Anderson," one of the others agreed, giving him a playful shoulder check on his way past. "Those dicks played dirty." 

"Yeah," said another, "I bet they bribed the freakin' ref, too, with how many fouls and shit they got away with." 

"Bribed him? That tall one with the horse teeth probably got on his knees for him." 

There was a moment of silence where everyone turned to Blaine, as though hesitant of his reaction. 

He just snorted. "I'd believe either scenario when it comes to Sebastian." 

The guys chortled and Puck clapped him on the back as they entered the locker room, and Blaine shuffled away to his customary position, thoughts drifting back to the Dalton team. He was pissed that they'd won. He'd wanted so badly to wipe those smug expressions from their faces, to reclaim a little of the pride they'd stolen from him. Instead, he felt as though he really had been the reason for the loss of the game, and, despite the team no longer blaming him outright, he wouldn't be surprised if they secretly did. 

He'd let his old team—his old friends—get to him. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't and yet...well, it would have been obvious to everyone (even Blind Freddy) that he had. And he'd failed miserably. And not just in front of himself and the McKinley team, but in front of his friends and the Evans family and Sam. 

He was so lost in self-derision that he failed to notice a couple of jocks who weren't on the lacrosse team invading his personal space until a large hand slammed into the locker beside him. He startled and glared, assuming it was one of the team just messing with him—the season was over: would they even bother to include him now?—a curse on his lips. It died when he came face to face with Lipoff and Surette. And a quick glance around told him that all the others had moved on to the showers, leaving him a sitting duck. 

 _Well, crap_. 

"You played like shit, Anderson," Lipoff sneered, his eyes glinting with a sick sort of satisfaction. "A real embarrassment to McKinley." 

Blaine scowled but, sensing that he was boxed in by the two larger jocks, tried to be non-confrontational. "I'm sorry you feel that way." He hadn't really meant it as an antagonism, per se, but his frustration with his old teammates—and himself—still spilled over into his tone. He cursed himself for his inability to just shut up. 

Surette laughed, but it wasn't pleasant. "You ain't in any kind of position to be a smart ass, homo." He stepped in closer, cutting off any chance of Blaine pushing past without a fight. "Figured we'd give the team a hand punishing you for losin' the game." 

Despite agreeing that he was responsible for the loss, Blaine jutted out his chin. "I'm not the only one who screwed up out there," he challenged, "and the team knows that. Nobody's punishing anyone. Not even Coach. We picked it up in the second half." 

He looked to the office door almost hopefully, as if expecting the woman in question to swoop in and save the day as she always did. But the door was closed, and he doubted she was in the building yet at all. Still, as long as he kept his two tormentors talking, there'd be more chance that she would turn up. 

"Beiste's still arguin' with the ref and the Dalton coach," Lipoff seemed genuinely amused by this, "heard her ranting about fouls and whatever. She's gonna be a while." 

"Well then, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be going..." Blaine tried, making a move to part the jocks and step between them, not even bothering to feel surprised when they shoved him back against the lockers with a loud clang. 

"Not so fast. I got kicked-off the team 'cos of you, and you went and cost us the game and the season." 

Blaine scowled, but bit his tongue properly this time, knowing that right at that moment he wasn't in any position to further antagonise his bullies. 

Lipoff wasn't impressed by the lack of reaction. He shoved Blaine back again. "What's the matter, Faggerson? In a rush to get out there to all your preppy boyfriends?" 

"Dude, he's with Evans, not any of those Dalton losers." Puck's voice corrected lazily, and Blaine peered between Surette and Lipoff to see the boy in question leaning casually against the wall. 

"What? You're stickin' up for him? Dating a fatty hasn't damaged your rep enough?" 

Puck's expression clouded over and he pushed himself off the wall, no longer looking at all casual but somewhat incensed. "Watch your fucking mouth, Phil." 

Lipoff rolled his eyes. "What are you gonna do 'bout it? Seriously, what's next? Gonna join Homo Explosion like Hudson and Chang?" 

Blaine took advantage of the distraction and slipped past his tormentors, coming to stand by Puck's side, feeling a bit useless as the other boy tensed and pointed at the door. 

"Just get the fuck outta here before I _show_ you what me and the rest of the team'll do about it." 

Surette tugged at his friend's sleeve. "C'mon, man, these fairies ain't worth it." 

Lipoff left with a grunt, figuring his odds of getting beaten up himself had increased significantly. When Blaine turned back to thank his surprise saviour, he found himself alone again. 

He felt awful. First he lost the game in front of his friends—in front of _Sam—_ and had let down Coach Beiste, the one teacher whose opinion meant something to him. Underpinning that, he was frustrated for once again allowing those Dalton guys to mess with and humiliate him, and now he couldn't even hold his own against Dumb and Dumber? All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball under the covers of his bed and forget that the day had ever happened. 

-?-

Sam's anxiety levels climbed as he drove his subdued best-friend-cum-crush home after the game. His heart beat so loudly in his chest that it challenged the sounds of the car's motor. He wasn't sure what to do or how to make the dejected lacrosse player feel better. It was disappointing that McKinley lost, and to Dalton no less, but it was just a game. There would be more opportunities to crush the other team next year...right? 

But, as much as he wanted to assure Blaine that it was no big deal and that there were worse things in life than lacrosse losses, he also remembered those times when he was on the football team and they had suffered a loss. Despite the fact that the moment was so fleeting and trivial, it didn't stop things from feeling like the end of the world, and Sam knew it. 

Still, Sam knew one thing that might cheer Blaine up, at least he thought he did. After his talk with his father, Sam received a much-needed second wind. He was going to tell Blaine. He was going to tell him how he felt, put it all out there, be that clichéd romantic comedy movie character and pour out his guts. 

Sam had decided: he promised himself that he would tell Blaine how he felt that afternoon, and he wasn't backing down. Even though he'd been banking on the other boy being in high spirits following the lacrosse final, he couldn't bring himself to change his mind and backtrack now. He just had to modify the plan a little, give Blaine a bit more breathing room if he needed it. 

He'd spent a good deal of time thinking this over, even going so far as to ask his Dad's advice again once he'd had time to process the revelation that Blaine might actually—and genuinely—be struggling with the same romantic inclinations. All the thinking had led him back to his original plan: he had to tell Blaine how he really felt, before they went back to school and continued on with their charade. 

Clearly, it wasn't an extremely detailed plan with charts and graphs or anything, but how hard could it be? People did it all the time. It's not like it was algebra or anything. It was just one dude saying to another dude, "Hey dude. I like you. So let's date. Yeah?" Admittedly, though, no matter how simple it seemed, he was still kind of terrified. 

Of course, being so lost in his own turmoil, Sam missed all the signs that Blaine was struggling with troubles of his own. Sam was usually very good at picking up on the small nuances of Blaine's behavior and personality, but his constant mental focus on the upcoming talk distracted from what, or who, he should have been focusing on the entire time. It wasn't until they were up in The Fortress that he realized that his best friend was more than just dejected at the loss of a lacrosse game: It was written all over Blaine's face, clear as day. 

"B," Sam asked, head cocked to the side when he finally noticed Blaine's expression, "what's up?" 

Blaine pulled himself from his own musings with a sigh and a shake of the head. "Nothing," he denied. 

Blaine knew he was wallowing a little irrationally, but facing off against his former friends had rattled him from the start. Puck's words had hit a little too close to home and the confrontation in the locker room had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He was tired and emotionally wrung-out and he didn't know if he had the strength to keep up the pretence that he wasn't head over heels for his best friend for much longer. 

It was as if the entire world was piling itself on his shoulders, turning him into the mythical Atlas, struggling to hold up the sky, his punishment for thinking that he could ever play on the lacrosse team with no problems or pretend to be Sam's boyfriend. Everything was on the cusp of exploding into chaos, and he would be left in the middle, exposed and alone. On the bright side, the team didn't hate him anymore. They just thought he was stuck up, a marginal improvement. And, okay, he was aware that they'd even started to treat him as one of their own, but the season was over, they'd lost, and Blaine doubted their attempts to include him would continue without any reason to. 

All in all, it would be a whole lot easier to lie, smile, and get rid of Sam than risk the entire thing imploding around him like everything else had that afternoon. Blaine would be lying if the thought hasn't crossed his mind to play the martyr and just end "things" with the blond. As much as he enjoyed feeling Sam's strong arms around him and the small stolen kisses they shared—to keep up the façade, according to Sam—Blaine couldn't help but worry that he had been playing with fire for far too long. It was only a matter of time before he burned down the whole proverbial forest. 

But Sam was equally determined to stick around and make sure he was okay. Blaine hated that about Sam. How was he supposed to get over the blond if he continued to be so incredibly sweet and considerate? There were times where Blaine just wanted to yell, "Stop being so nice! Why can't you just ignore me or something like most guys?" 

The problem was, Sam wasn't like most guys. This was the cause of Blaine's pleasure and pain, the root of the problem, the reason for all his headaches. Sam was a perfect contradiction: strong yet gentle, oblivious yet observant. He was the All-American jock who befriended the school's ostracized gay kid. He was the perfect guy, in Blaine's eyes at least, and he was so tantalizingly right out of Blaine's reach. 

"No, seriously, what's wrong?" Sam pulled one of the chairs away from the card table and straddled it backwards, folding his arms across the top of the back support and resting his chin on top of them. "It's more than just losing the game, right B?" 

Blaine gave him a dark look at the reminder of yet another of his failures. He knew Sam was trying to make it better, but his words were like rubbing alcohol on an open wound. 

"Come on," Sam pressed, unperturbed, "it's just me here." His own countenance darkened. "Those Dalton douches didn't say anything, did they?" 

He'd wanted more than anything to have been down on the field—or at least on the benches—during the game, but Coach hadn't allowed it, relegating him to the bleachers with his family, Mike, and Alex, cheering Blaine on from a distance. If one of those private school preppies had said something that had caused his Blaine to look this upset...well, there'd be some form of hell to pay. Once he worked out exactly what that was, he'd enact his vengeance slowly and with great glee. Plans of ninja stars and rocket launchers were already menacing through his imagination. 

"No. Well, I mean, they tried, but it's not like I wasn't expecting it," Blaine shook his head, somewhat aware of the path Sam's thoughts had taken, even if he didn't quite realize the full motivations of the blond's protectiveness. 

There was no use confessing that their presence alone had been enough to put him off his game, that he felt responsible for the McKinley loss because he hadn't been able to shake his reaction to facing-off against the Dalton team. Then again, when Sam frowned and prodded for more information ("Well, what then?"), Blaine wished he had just fobbed his mood off on Sebastian and company. 

"I'm serious, Sam. It's nothing. I'm just tired." 

The blond studied him for a long moment, before sighing and shrugging. His shoulders slumped, and it was as if he was suddenly scared to speak. There was a look on Sam's face, a look that Blaine had never seen before. 

"So, I know you're lying," Sam eventually said, starting to sound a little unsure of himself, "but I guess...I guess I can't expect you to tell me everything if...if _I'm_ not being full-on honest with you, huh?...I mean..." 

Blaine frowned across at his friend as the blond sighed in a defeated tone, a tendril of worry unfurling in the lacrosse player's belly. He didn't like the ominous sound of Sam's statement. He really hoped it wasn't more bad news. He thought he might pass out if Sam gave him even a sliver of something negative. 

"What are you talking about, Sam?" 

The worry morphed into a churning, fearful sensation when Sam said the words that everyone knew spelled trouble, the words that were never followed by good things like "You just won a million dollars!" or "Ryan Gosling is oiled up and waiting for you on your bed!" 

"Blaine...we need to talk." 

Before Blaine could panic—had Sam finally noticed his infatuation? Had he freaked out? Did he not want to be Blaine's friend anymore?—Sam reached across the table between them and grasped his hand. 

"I don't want things to be weird between us," he started, doing his best to meet Blaine's gaze, despite the fact that his heart was hammering away so rapidly that it felt as though it was about to burst through his ribcage and tap dance across the table between them. He was acutely aware of how slippery his sweaty palms were and winced inwardly, hoping that they didn't freak Blaine out as much as they were freaking him out. "But it's not fair on either one of us for me to keep this to myself." 

Blaine wanted to snap at him and tell him to spit it out, but found that his voice had left him, so he just sat silently, waiting for Sam to drop whatever bomb it was that he was working up to. 

Blaine's castle walls erected themselves around his heart, prepared for words that would surely inflict their pain and hurt. Everyone he had ever cared about left him, one by one: first his friends, then his parents. It only seemed fitting that fate ripped Sam away from him as well. 

"Dude. Blaine," the blond licked his lips, but for once Blaine was not distracted. His mind was too busy preparing the practiced smile that he'd plaster on his face when Sam delivered the inevitable news, the words that Blaine had feared would come out of his lips ever since the ridiculous idea had been presented in the first place. 

"I like you," Sam cringed at how juvenile that sounded, and scrambled to better explain himself. "I mean, for a while now I've been thinking of you like...uh, like a real boyfriend. You're still my best bro, but I think, no...I know that what I'm feeling is more than that. I mean, I don't think you noticed, but, uh, I've kind of been trying to show you how I feel. All the dates..." 

Sam finally looked away, rubbing the back of his neck while his cheeks burned. He could feel the blush spreading across his cheeks and hated how stupid he felt. He was saying it all wrong. It shouldn't be embarrassing. It shouldn't be hard, but, try as he might, Sam couldn't help but feel like a child swimming in his father's suit, attempting to play grown-up without a clue as to what he was doing. 

He felt like _that_ , and he hated it. 

"I've thought about being with you, like...no, I don't mean like _that..._ I mean...not that I have't thought about _that..._ I mean...shit...sorry...it's just...y'know..." 

It's like Sam's words were vomit. Vomit that was spewing out of his mouth, completely of their own accord and without a single ounce of say from him. It was a verbal mutiny with the worst possible timing. 

"I just...I wanna be your real boyfriend, I've wanted to for a while now, actually...and every time I tried to say something, I panicked and backed out. Not because I'm scared that that'll make me gay or bi or whatever, or anything...but...but because you're still my best friend, man, and I know that telling you this is gonna change things and I guess..." 

Sam took a deep breath and looked back at Blaine in earnest. He looked in Blaine's eyes and was terrified and encouraged, all at the same time. How was it possible that he hadn't diarrhea'd his pants already? They definitely made this look a lot easier in movies. 

"I guess I wanted to be just friends with you instead of saying something and screwing it all up at all, but I don't think I can do that anymore. It's not enough anymore, man. I'm really sorry, but I can't just pretend like I'm just pretending to want to kiss you, or hold your hand, or any of that junk. I actually do. It's weird...but I do. " 

Blaine just blinked at him. It had been a long, emotionally wearing day, and though he understood what Sam was saying, and part of him knew he should feel elated, he was finding it difficult to really process it. 

"Sam..." Blaine started, but faltered. He didn't know what to say. 

"And maybe that's messed up," Sam pressed on because his nerves wouldn't allow him to accept the silence hanging between them, "but I...I don't know...maybe I'm just—" 

"No." 

Sam's eyes snapped up and met hazel orbs. What he saw wasn't anger or embarrassment. He knew that look on Blaine's face. He knew that look because he knew all of the boy's looks and _that_ look was the look Blaine wore right before he was going to smile: right before Blaine even _knew_ he was going to smile. 

"No?" 

"No," Blaine shook his head slowly, shaking off his stupor somewhat, the reality of Sam's admission slowly sinking in. Blaine's lips tugged slightly, beginning to whisper the beginnings of the smirk that Sam wore. 

"Yeah," the dark haired boy breathed. 

Was it actually happening? Or had he hit his head during the game, a concussion or brain injury causing him to hallucinate? Maybe he was dying and this was the first stage before his brain simply exploded in his head? He supposed it wasn't the worst way to go. 

"Sam, we—" 

He was cut off by the shrill sound of Sam's ringing phone. 

_Come on!_

The blond scowled as he pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to silence the offending device and send the call go to voicemail. Just as he was about to hit the silencing button—a far more lenient punishment than banishing it at the wall like he actually wanted to—he saw that the caller ID said it was his Mom. Despite every cell in his body screaming for him to ignore the call, years of instilled manners prevented him from dismissing his mother so carelessly. 

"I'm really sorry B," he grunted and sighed exasperatedly, "but can you just hold on? I _swear_ this'll only be a second..." 

He swiped the screen and raised the phone to his ear. 

"Mom! _What?!_ " 

The unmistakable sound of Mary Evans reprimanding her son for the curt greeting filtered over to Blaine, and he fought back a small smile while the blond scrambled to apologize. He watched with dancing eyes as the blond turned a deep shade of pink while alternating between shooting embarrassed looks at Blaine and turning his eyes to quietly whisper desperate apologies to his mother, as if whispering might somehow prevent the words from traveling the ten inches to Blaine's ears. 

When Sam hung up the phone with a huff, he turned back to Blaine and sighed, still pink as before, though a little more subdued. 

"I have to go. There's an emergency at home..." 

It was obvious that the taller boy was reluctant to leave their conversation hanging at such a pivotal point. 

Blaine, meanwhile, frowned at the idea that something could be wrong with any of the Evans family. As much as he wanted to continue their talk, the mere thought of something being wrong made his heart stop. The Evans brood had become a second family to him: he didn't want anything bad to happen to them. What if something had happened to Stevie? Or Stacey? 

"Is everyone okay? Should I come help, or—" 

"Oh, no, it's cool. Mom's just gotta go to work. Dad's already gone and I have to watch Stevie and Stacey." 

Sam relaxed a little more. Blaine was offering to join him, especially after his little declaration. That definitely was a good sign, right? 

"But...you wanna come with?" 

It wasn't even a loaded question, but Blaine suddenly felt as though the weight of the world rested on his answer. It was more than just watching Stevie and Stacey. It was more than just hanging out with Sam. If he said yes, then Blaine would be saying yes to Sam, saying yes to what Sam had confessed, saying yes to what Blaine had been denying to himself their entire "relationship". 

"Yeah," the brunet eventually replied, shaking his head slightly and smiling as Sam returned the grin and bounded from his seat and pulled his coat back on. 

"But," Blaine added, "and I know how this is going to sound, but...can we, um, take things slowly?" 

Sam's eyebrows rose almost comically high, and Blaine tried to explain. 

"I mean...we still need to talk about this, properly, without your brother or sister for an audience. Or anyone else, for that matter. So...until then, can we just, I don't know...still be us? The way things were? Or is that stupid and weird? I just...you're right. We're friends, Sam. Best friends. I just...I don't want to mess that up. I can't." 

"Nah, I get it," Sam shook his head with a light smile, "this is kind of a big deal. So, like, however long it takes...we're still cool, okay?" 

He raised his hand, wearing a dopey smile, for a fist bump and Blaine complied, only after making a show of rolling his eyes first. 

Suddenly, it didn't matter that Dalton had won the game, that he hadn't been able to get his closure and give those guys their comeuppance, because here was this guy, this awesome, understanding, attractive guy, telling him that he cared, that he would do whatever it took to keep Blaine in his life, as friends or otherwise, and it meant more to Blaine than some stupid prep school boys and whatever their issues were. In fact, he considered for a fleeting moment, he ought to thank Sebastian and his flock of sheep for being the douches they were, for getting Blaine kicked out and starting the whole process that had landed him where he was now: with Sam, asking him to stay with him no matter what. This was it, he realized, _this_ was his closure. And it was damn better than a lacrosse game. 

And he'd cream them on the field next season, anyway. 

Blaine smiled softly, finally relaxing, letting go of that chapter of his life, keen to embrace this new one. 

"Okay," he agreed, reaching for his own jacket. 

Sam's expression relaxed into some blend of relief and understanding. He breathed out the worry that had been threatening to take up residence inside of him. That look on Blaine's face was a comforting one: it was his Sam Face. It was the expression he always wore whenever he looked at Sam. No one else was ever given the honor of receiving the Sam Face, and that was exactly why it was named as such. It was the best of Blaine's expressions and, unsurprisingly, it was Sam's favorite. 

The look had always been one that Sam thought only contained friendly thoughts and harmless smiles, but now it almost seemed slightly different. It was the same lopsided grin and those same shining eyes, but they seemed to be a brighter shade of Blaine than before, and they gave Sam a funny feeling: a promise, a best case scenario that he had secretly envisioned. 

It gave him hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally this is where I copy-paste TheFauxMe's author's notes but FFN has made it impossible to copy-paste so if you want to read it, it's on FFN (BNG is on TheFauxMe's profile, not mine...although there is a link from my FFN profile to the fic).
> 
> Basically the reason why it's been so quiet is that Faux went into premature labor last year and she's been trying to keep up with a newborn ever since.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's Chapter 20. Those who follow this fic on FFN have already read this, but since FFN no longer allows us to copy-and-paste, it took me a while to get a copy to upload.
> 
> Apologies for the extra wait. The good news is that the epilogue HAS been written, Faux and I are just fixing it up. I hope it follows soon. But yep, this is pretty much the end.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for following this story and, again, apologies for the long wait.

It turned out, spending time babysitting his kid siblings with Blaine while having his declaration hanging over their heads wasn't awkward at all. Sam realized that he shouldn't have been surprised: Blaine was just that awesome. They even managed to keep their conversation light and easy for the duration of Sam driving Blaine home.

It wasn't until Sam pulled the car up along the curb and put it in park that the air got heavy.

"Blaine..." Sam undid his seatbelt and turned in his seat to face his...well, that was yet to really be determined, he guessed. "Blaine, I-"

"Can we not? I mean," Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "It's been a long, eventful day, and I want to talk it through now, I do...but I think we should both sleep on it, you know?"

Part of Sam had been expecting it, but his shoulders still slumped a little in disappointment. However, he had promised Blaine that he'd give him all the time  
he needed. Would one night--a few hours--really hurt?

Pasting on a smile, he nodded. "That's totally cool, B. I get it."

The grateful smile on Blaine's face reassured Sam that he was making the right decision. And if that wasn't enough, the other boy's words cemented it. "You're awesome, Sam."

"So...tomorrow then? No pressure..." Sam scratched the back of his neck as Blaine got out of the car and then leaned in through the open passenger window.

"Whenever you're ready. Just, you know, call me?" Sam suddenly realized that he sounded just like a whiny girlfriend. Fabray 2.0. He cringed.

Thankfully, Blaine only laughed. "I'll call you tomorrow," he promised. "And we  _will_ talk."

Only they didn't. To Sam's growing frustration, his parents needed him to babysit for the entirety of the following day and, when he begged to go to Blaine's after dinner, his father shut him down, telling him that he would see Blaine at school.

"I swear," he confided with Blaine over the phone that night, "It's a conspiracy."

Blaine sighed over the line. "Because your parents are clearly out to get you." He paused, and Sam imagined him shaking his head. "It's not the end of the world, Sam. We'll talk tomorrow."

Sam bit back the urge to say that that's what Blaine had promised the night before. "Or...we could talk now?" He couldn't control how hopeful his tone was, and once again he noted that he probably sounded a bit too clingy. _So sue me_ , his inner voice replied, _There's nothing wrong with wanting to know where you stand_ _with the guy you like_.

" _Sam_..." Blaine responded, a note of frustration bleeding into the word. "I'm not trying to put it off, but-"

The blond couldn't muffle his disgruntled huff of disbelief. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

On his end of the line, Blaine ran his hand over his face. "I just want to have this conversation face to face." He admitted, frowning despite the fact that Sam couldn't see him, "Is that really so wrong of me?"

"Well...no. Of course not." Sam's face flooded with a guilty blush, and he was glad they weren't having this conversation in person. He'd promised Blaine he wouldn't push, that he'd give him time, and what was he doing? "I'm sorry."

Blaine's answering smile filtered through his voice, "Don't be, Sam. I understand."

Sam took that as a good sign. "So...can I pick you up early tomorrow?"

There was a groan and Sam's stomach sank. "You forgot that Kurt's giving me a ride in tomorrow, didn't you?"

_Son of a bitch._

This time, Sam was able to contain his sigh. Right on cue, he recalled the countertenor's scheme to perform a 'Welcome Back From Vacation' duet with Blaine during Glee. Kurt's eyes had gleamed as he declared that his and Blaine's voices complimented each other so well that it would be a crime to let the opportunity to duet pass them by. At the time, Sam hadn't given it too much thought, given that he'd been too busy working on his own plan to seduce his fake boyfriend.

"I remember now," he said, trying not to sound sullen. He was back to thinking that it was all a great big conspiracy theory.

And Blaine seemed to know it. "Neither your parents nor Kurt Hummel are mastermind spies, Sam, and even if they were, why would they be plotting to keep us from seeing each other in private?"

Sam pondered this for a moment, then grinned. "Maybe _you're_ a spy, too. Only a double agent! Or maybe I'm the double agent...but, oh, I guess I'd know that, wouldn't I?"

Blaine's chuckle crackled in his ear. "Go to bed, Double-Oh-Seven. I'll see you tomorrow."

-?-

Seeing as Blaine had been kidnapped by Kurt, Sam went directly through to the Batcave when he got to school. He was pleased to find Mike there, seemingly engrossed in his Calculus textbook.

"Dude, classes haven't even started yet. Put that crap away."

Mike rolled his eyes but closed the book anyway. He eyed Sam with thinly veiled curiosity.

"Yes," Sam admitted, answering his friend's unasked question as he sat on one of the desks, "I told Blaine how I felt."

One of Mike's eyebrows winged upwards.

The blond let out a frustrated puff of breath. "I wish I knew how it went. First my Mom called and interrupted my whole 'wanting to be real' speech, then it was too late at night and he was tired, then I had to babysit all day yesterday and I wasn't allowed to go see him, and Kurt totally stole him this morning...and, Dude, it's _not_ funny!"

Mike couldn't help but smirk. "That's what you get for leaving it so long, Sam."

Sam sighed and frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "You know, I think I liked you better when you didn't talk so much."

It was only his quick reflexes that saved him from the flying calculus textbook.

-?-

"Blaine...y _oo-hoo_ , earth to Mr Handsome!" Kurt snapped his fingers in his friend's face. "Come on, boo, you totally spaced out on me there. You're thinking about Tall, Blond and Sexy again aren't you? This is so becoming a pattern, Honey."

Blaine gave himself a shake and focused, sheepishly, on his current companion. "Sorry," he muttered lamely. "I guess I am making a bit of a habit of this, huh?" He added, casting his thoughts back to just before Christmas break. He'd been in a very similar position then, he realized, spending time with Kurt but distracted by thoughts of Sam.

Kurt flashed him a genuine smile. "It's fine, sweetie," he assured the dark-haired boy, taking the seat beside him and squeezing his thigh with affection ( _What?_ He  _was_ human, after all). "Want to talk about it?"

"Oh...no. It's okay. There's nothing wrong. I mean..." Blaine cut himself off and smiled back at his friend. "We should be working on our song!"

Kurt shook his head with a laugh. "You need to work on your deflection skills, Blaine. The song can wait. Besides," he dismissed with a wave, "we are both fabulous when it comes to musical improvisation. We'll surprise ourselves as well as our peers when we take center stage during glee. Now, what's going on with you and Blondie Bear this time?"

"Sam...well, he told me, um, how he feels about me and I didn't get a chance to reciprocate, and--"

"Wait...is this a love thing or a sex thing?"

Blaine's cheeks flushed. He'd been deliberately vague for obvious reasons (it was too late now to explain the whole 'It was all supposed to be an act' thing, wasn't it?) and now Kurt was leaping to conclusions that were way, _way_ ahead of what Blaine was actually worried about, and he wasn't sure which of the two options would be easier to handle at this point.

"Um," he said, averting his eyes. "Neither. Both. I don't know."

Kurt blinked. "You...don't know?"

"Ugh...it's just...complicated." Blaine ran his hands through his hair, making a face when they came back covered in product. He'd probably need to redo it. "Damn it."

"Okay," Kurt had a comb in his hands and was running it through Blaine's hair before the latter could blink.

 _What was he?_ Blaine wondered, momentarily distracted. _Some sort of_ _hairdressing ninja?_ But the motion was soothing, and Blaine closed his eyes and allowed it.

Kurt spoke softly when he prodded, "Start from the beginning."

And, despite himself, Blaine did. He told Kurt about everything: Dalton, his emancipation, wanting to just hold his head down and get through McKinley without making a spectacle of himself, being bullied, Sam's ridiculous plan, the rules, his presumably unrequited feelings for Sam, all of the dates, mending things with the team but still losing against Dalton, and now, of course, the feelings being miraculously and bizarrely returned by the Sam after all.

The bell for first period had long gone by the time Blaine finished talking, but neither boy gave it any thought.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly when his friend remained silent. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for lying."

Kurt eventually blinked. "Oh, sweetie, wow. That's one hell of a story you've got there."

"You're not mad that we lied?" Because honestly, Blaine felt lousy for concealing the truth. It was like Dalton all over again.

The other boy laughed and shook his head, smoothing down the collar of Blaine's polo. "But you didn't, really. I hate to break it to you, but for all of your insistence that you've been in a sham of a relationship, you and Sam really have been dating."

"But--"

"No, hear me out." Kurt started listing statistics, counting off his 'proof' on his fingers. "One, he kissed you. And he's kept on kissing you. No straight boy would ever do that for a guy friend. _Trust me,_ I know. Two, you know each other inside and out, and you're all emotional over each other. A lot."

Blaine blushed. "Well, yeah, okay, but--"

" _Shh_...Three, you took each other on dates and put actual thought into it, instead of just hanging out and playing Halo then making up some story to convince everyone else. Four, you are in each other's pockets no matter where you go, and you're _always_ touching. Sitting together in glee or class or the cafeteria, you hook your ankles together, or press your thigh up against his, or hold his hand, or--"

"I get it."

The look Kurt gave him was one of intense scrutiny. "Do you? Because you're acting all freaked out over the fact that the boy you're interested in is interested in you too, when all along you've already proven that you're comfortable together and that it works. Face it, Honey, the only thing that's going to change is that you'll be on the same page from here on out, and you can stop telling yourself that it's wrong to have feelings for him because it's obvious to anyone with working eyes that that boy is gaga for you."

Blaine sat back, a little stunned. He was getting a little too worked up over this, wasn't he? He was over-thinking things more and more with each minute that passed, conditioned to believe that if it seemed too good to be true it probably was. But Kurt had a point--several, actually--and he was doing himself and Sam a disservice by dissecting the scenario into categories of how badly things could fail.

"My boyfriend likes me," he stated, well aware of how silly it sounded. A stupid grin plastered itself on his face as Kurt's point well and truly struck home. "Well...damn."

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile. _Honestly_ , he thought disparagingly, _boys_.

-?-

By the time Sam and Blaine finally found each other, it was lunch time and they were both practically vibrating with anxious energy. They met in the Batcave and stared at one another for a moment before both launching into conversation at the same time.

"Blaine, the last thing I wanted was to make things weird--"

"Sam, I've been thinking about what you said--"

They both pulled up short with an awkward chuckle, then played the "You go first" game for a bit before Blaine huffed and declared that he'd speak.

"I don't want to drag this out," he began, "Well, not any more than we already have. I should have said it straight away...but I...well, I don't always trust my instincts, which you already know, and I tend to over-think--"

"And ramble."

"I...oh, sorry." Blaine ducked his head a little before shaking off his sheepishness and looking Sam in the eye. "I like you too, Sam. A lot. I spent a long time thinking things that are really wrong to think about your best friend...and I'm not normally that guy, you know? I've never ever crossed the friend zone, and especially not with a straight guy, and so when you said you felt that way, well, you took me completely by surprise. But I should have said that I feel the same."

Sam, who may have momentarily been distracted by Blaine's admission about "thinking wrong thoughts" and all that it implied, caught back up at the tail end of Blaine's statement and smiled. "Yeah?"

The dark-haired boy nodded, his own smile slowly spreading across his face, relief at _finally_ getting to be honest with Sam seeping into his bones. "Yeah," he affirmed.

"Thank _God_." Sam declared. He didn't need to think, he acted on impulse, striding forward and pulling Blaine-- _his_ Blaine--closer. He paused for a moment, eyes meeting Blaine's, seeking approval and something intangible, before leaning down and slanting his lips over the other boy's.

Despite the fact that they'd kissed before, this felt different. It felt, for lack of a better term, real. They were finally equals in the moment, both aware of how the other felt, neither one feeling guilty for enjoying a charade or clinging to a fantasy in their heads. This time, Blaine allowed himself to smile against the mouth meeting his, daring to bring his hand up and cup Sam's face. Sam's stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the feeling, and he pulled back slowly, a grin practically splitting his face, his hands still attached to Blaine's back and hip, determined to hold him close for as long as he could.

That was definitely worth the wait, he decided. Though he still wasn't ruling Kurt and his parents out as double agent spies intent on sabotaging him.

"Nobody is sabotaging you," Blaine laughed, pulling back a little but not enough to break their embrace.

Sam's eyes widened comically. " _Dude_ ," he whispered in awe, "You read minds? Oh, God," he realized that if Blaine could read minds then he'd know every filthy thing that filtered through his head. And now that he was thinking about not thinking about them, he couldn't stop himself from thinking them _more_. "Don't read my mind now. I mean it. Stop."

Blaine shook his head, smiling at the blush crawling up Sam's neck and cheeks. "No, Sam. I don't read minds. You spoke out loud."

"Oh." Now Sam was blushing in embarrassment. He felt a little bit stupid. Of  _course_ it was impossible to read peoples' minds!

Blaine's hands moved to Sam's waist and he moved back in for a hug, "Don't feel silly, Sam," he reassured, "I like to believe that superpowers are real, too."

Sam's embarrassment slowly leeched away. "Really?" he asked.

Blaine nodded, smiling genuinely.

Sam beamed back at him. "You're kinda perfect, you know."

Fighting back giddiness, Blaine feigned nonchalance and confidence, channeling his inner Tony Stark. "Yeah, I know."

Sam laughed and pulled him back in for another heated kiss. By the time they resurfaced for air, Blaine found himself seated on one of the desks, Sam standing between his legs, their bodies pressed together.

Spurred on by the intimate position, Sam asked, "So, what sort of _wrong_ things have you thought about me?"

Blaine's face flooded with heat. Sam's voice was low, the question asked quietly enough, but he'd asked it in such a tone that there was no doubt as to his sexual confidence.

"I...um...I..." Blaine floundered a little. He was a total virgin and right now he was more than aware that Sam wasn't, regardless of the fact that Sam hadn't ever been with another boy.

"I've made things weird again, right?" It was like a switch had flipped and Sam was back to that sweet boy next door, shifting backwards so he could look at his boyfriend with concern. "I didn't mean to. I just...you _said_...and then the kissing, and my imagination..." His cheeks turned pink. "I'm sorry. I meant it when I said I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Just...forget I said anything."

"No!" Blaine's response was louder than he'd intended and he ducked his head, lowering his voice. "I mean, no. It's not _weird_ , Sam. I'm not uncomfortable. I'm just a little...insecure. I'm..." he took a breath and forced himself to look his boyfriend (still a bizarre concept!) in the eye. "You know I've never had sex, right? I've never been with anyone. No guys, no girls...nobody. And I know you have and I just..."

"You think you're going to be crap at it?"

Blaine chuckled nervously. "Kind of, yeah."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, well, so do I. Being with you is gonna be a whole new experience and I sure as hell won't be a pro either. But, and this is gonna sound totally cheesy, I know it's gonna be awesome because, y'know, we'll be doing it together." He cleared his throat and shrugged, trying to regain his masculinity a little by adding, "Besides, the kissing is totally hot and awesome, so the sex _has_ to be. It's like an unwritten rule, or something."

Blaine's lips twitched towards a smile. "I see."

"But I don't want to jump straight into having sex now that we're official or whatever," Sam continued, "I mean, yeah, I _do_ , but I don't wanna rush you. And, like, there are so many awesome things we can try first, y'know?" And he'd googled them. A lot. Totally for instructional purposes...or that's what he'd say if Blaine asked, anyway.

Honestly. Sam had done a lot of – _ahem_ \- research to get to the point where he was truly comfortable with the thought of consummating their relationship. Ever since he’d realized that he was attracted to Blaine and wanted to be with him, he’d taken to watching a lot of gay porn (so sue him if he found one guy that reminded him of his boyfriend...alright, so that was a bit weird...) and had even secretly read a bunch of fanfiction.

Not that he’d ever admit to that, of course. Especially because they’d left him more confused than anything, often bordering on breaking the laws of physics and-–this one time--nature. ‘Cause, like, dudes couldn't get pregnant. Right? No. He was _sure_ they couldn't. They’d teach that stuff in school or church or something. But he’d seen this one article in a tabloid once...No. No. It was wrong, and freaky and weird and gross. Teenaged girls, Man. They were all sorts of messed up. He’d steered away from fanfiction after that.

But, really, the point was...he was totally comfortable with the idea of having sex with his boyfriend. Probably more than even Blaine was at this point.

Blaine's smile grew wider as he relaxed. "Okay...but...I mean...you're really okay with the thought of _me_ that way? Because I know you've only ever been interested in girls, and--"

"Seriously, B. I wasn't lying when I said I've thought about this, a-about being with you a lot." Sam swallowed reflexively as he all but admitted to fantasizing about his boyfriend. "I'm not, like, _afraid_ of what's below your belt or anything."

As if to prove a point, Sam moved forward again, pushing Blaine down onto the desk and spreading himself over him, grinding down a little and grinning rakishly when Blaine's eyes widened and his mouth went slack.

"Oh," said the shorter boy, his own blush returning quickly, "I, um, good."

Sam chuckled and moved in even closer for another kiss, but the bell rang and he cursed out loud. "Seriously," he exclaimed, checking his watch with a scowl, "There's _definitely_ a conspiracy here."

-?-

Later that afternoon, when Dwight and Mary arrived home to find the boys studying at the dinner table, their hands entwined between them and their cheeks flushed a tell-tale pink, the adults shared a knowing look.

"Talk go well, Son?" Dwight asked over dinner, not even pretending to look repentant when Mary scolded him for putting the boys on the spot. "I told you you had nothing to worry about. Blaine's crazy about y-- _ouch_!"

Mary snorted inelegantly as her husband rubbed his shin, casting their now pink hued guest an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Blaine," she said, "Dwight's just happy all the pretending is over."

Blaine nodded and smiled, giving Sam a side-long look and smiling, "I think we all are," he agreed.

  
-?-

The rest of the school year passed with very few problems for Blaine outside of the melodrama that was constantly perpetuated within the New Directions. Things had actually gotten remarkably easier once he and Sam admitted their honest feelings to one another, and nobody else-–bar Kurt and Mike--had been any the wiser, though Rachel had remarked that they seemed to be far more comfortable with one another after Christmas break, and Santana had gone on to insinuate that it was irrefutable proof that the couple were officially getting it on.

Blaine found that he could live with that particular rumor circulating, especially when it wasn't too far removed from the truth. As teenage boys, it hadn't taken either of them long to move their make out sessions into more risqué territory; even if they hadn't gone all the way, they’d still gone quite far, in Blaine’s opinion. (And, yes, he’d discovered that Sam’s mouth _was_ made for everything he’d  
imagined, and then some!)

Sam now helped out at the music store on weekends, ditching his crappy job at the DQ for something he enjoyed much more, and not only because it meant being paid to flirt with his boyfriend. Okay, that made him sound a little bit like a prostitute when he put it that way, but...this was getting off topic. Alex had convinced him to teach a small class of young kids beginner guitar on a Saturday morning, then assist Blaine in tutoring the more advanced kids over the rest of the weekend.

Because the store was so close to Blaine’s place, Sam had somehow managed to convince his parents to let him stay there on a Saturday night unless he was required to babysit his siblings, the caveat being that it would be the only night Sam was allowed to stay over: the rest of the time he still had a curfew, or Blaine was required to stay with them.

On the Saturday night following their last night of school for the year, Blaine and Sam blew off Santana’s annual Summer House Party Extravaganza for the prospect of a night spent hanging out alone in The Fortress, as Sam’s parents had asked the boys to babysit for almost an entire month of Saturdays. (This had, naturally, set the blond off on another tangent about spies and sabotage, to which Blaine had only laughed.)

Spread out on Blaine’s bed-–a position which was second nature by this stage--Sam propped himself on his elbow and watched his boyfriend dance carelessly across the small room to music flowing from the iPod dock on the card table. The scene was so familiar by now that it caused a contented warmth to spread through him.

“Man, I love you, B,” Sam said with a smile, the words escaping him without any thought or warning.

Blaine froze mid-step. “What?” he asked, a bright smile soon stretching his lips. “Really?”

They’d been dating-– _really_ dating, not that pretend crap--for a good six months, but neither had said the ‘L’ word out loud yet, not for fear of rebuke, but because both felt that the other was pretty well aware of how they felt. Besides, they were guys; gushing about love was kind of out of their comfort zones.

“Yes really, you dope,” Sam replied with a teasing roll of his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

Blaine laughed and leaped at the bed, bouncing a little when he landed unceremoniously in the space beside the blond. “Yeah, well, then you know I love you, too.”

Sam nodded with a grin and then, with a gleam in his eye, pulled Blaine flush against him. “Gonna show me how much?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

The brunet chuckled and placed a kiss at the junction between Sam’s jaw and his neck. “What do you think?” he asked, neither one of them surprised by how low his voice had suddenly gotten.

“I think you need some more encouragement,” Sam responded, rolling Blaine onto his back and pinning his arms above his head, the shorter boy’s hands disappearing under the pillows where-–Sam knew--he was clenching and releasing fistfuls of fabric in anticipation of what was to come.

The blond wasted no time, his eager teen hormones urging him forward as he kissed at Blaine’s neck and undid Blaine’s belt with what was now well-practiced ease. Getting the brunet out of the skinny jeans was still a bit of a struggle (and no amount of arguing the point would get Blaine to change his style, not that Sam minded when his boyfriend’s ass always looked so good) but it was accomplished soon enough.

Blaine’s shirt was shucked upwards-–both boys too impatient to remove it completely--and he closed his eyes and bit his lip, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s tongue lathing a path down his chest, his breath hitching when warm fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs. He bucked his hips impatiently when the blond continued to tease him, biting back a moan when his underwear was quickly removed and his body given the attention that he’d wanted so badly.

It wasn't until he was close to orgasm that he was certain that he wanted to go further--that he wanted Sam inside him--and he cried out for Sam to stop, pulling his hands out from under the pillows and batted at the blond to emphasize his seriousness.

“Dude, what...” Sam trailed off and arched an eyebrow at the material that Blaine had been hitting him with. “Is...is that my shirt?”

Blaine paled then blushed, tossing the faded blue item back under his pillows. “Uh, no?”

Sam scrambled up the bed-–momentarily ignoring Blaine’s semi-nakedness and his original goal--and yanked the offending shirt back out from its hiding space. “It is!” he declared triumphantly when he spied the familiar Captain America insignia, before turning his confused expression on his boyfriend, who appeared both guilty and embarrassed. “Didn't I throw this out, like, before Christmas?”

Blaine swallowed reflexively and looked away, “Uh, well, no...I kinda said that I’d take care of it...”

Realization dawned on Sam and he started to smirk, “You kept it. Secretly.” He stopped short, a thought hitting him. “B, do you wear this?”

The shorter boy was blushing profusely now as he forced himself to nod, his arousal waning rapidly and mortification flooding his entire being. He’d taken to wearing Sam’s shirt to bed when he wasn't around, despite knowing that doing so was kind of creepy, considering that he’d been doing it since before he and Sam had been honest with each other.

Sam, meanwhile, was oblivious to Blaine’s humiliation, brain short-circuiting by the revelation and idea of his boyfriend secretly wearing his old favorite shirt. “God that’s _hot_ ,” he admitted, the words coming out in almost a groan as he reached for Blaine, intent on continuing where they’d left off, now kind of desperate to get off.

“Wait...what?”

Sam paused his action of attempting to divest Blaine of his shirt to get him completely nude, frowning as he noticed that the other boy was nowhere near as turned on as he should be. “Blaine, did you think I’d be weirded out or something?”

The brunet nodded again, his color normalizing as he realized that Sam was definitely not creeped-out by his discovery.

“Well you’re totally wrong,” Sam corrected. “Thinking of you wearing my shirt? It’s really, really hot. Like, I’m trying really hard to not hold you down and make you show me...which, okay, makes no sense, but, you know, it makes me _really_ wanna do things to you, and--”

Blaine silenced his boyfriend with a kiss, relieved that Sam seemed to be genuinely stimulated by the whole scenario. He guessed it was some sort of primal, caveman possessive streak or something, not that he was complaining.

“So,” he said, his interest bouncing back as only a seventeen year old boy’s could as he toyed with the hem of Sam’s shirt, “You should probably get naked, and, um, maybe get to doing those things to me.” He waited a beat. “All of them.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he caught on to Blaine’s suggestion easily, “ _Really_? You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

“Okay.” Sam’s smile softened and, granting himself a moment to get a little cheesy, knowing that this was kind of a huge deal for Blaine (and admitting, at least to himself, that it was a big deal for him, too), he pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “I love you.”

Blaine returned the smile with a similar one of his own. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I'm not even going to start, guys. I know, it's been a long, long time since I last updated this and I'll be super surprised if anyone is still following at this point. My life went crazy (apparently having a baby will do that to you) and I lost the plot (I even did a Quinn and chopped off my lovely long hair and went a little psychotic with the colours. Today I, a natural brunette who has never ventured beyond the dark colours, sit here typing this with almost Malfoy blonde hair in a pixie cut and a purple fringe/bangs). I've pretty much lost touch with my cowriters, the boys who kept me sane and motivated, and I'm missing our chats desperately. This is the last official chapter, people, but it WILL be followed by an epilogue (which will hopefully not take me another 6 months to write).
> 
> For Loki, I hope you enjoy this as a somewhat belated birthday gift. Blammy goodness awaits, my friend. I hope you like this. I know there are still loose ends to tie up –hence the planned epilogue- but I’m pretty happy with where this  
> stands now.
> 
> For gBw, I hope you're alive out there somewhere. I miss you and I hate leaving our awesome fic unfinished. Remember how awesome we are? My iPod spat a Sebastian song at me the other day and I got all nostalgic...Oh, look, I'm turning  
> on the guilt trip. I’m a mother now, so I’m embracing it as prerogative. Haha. But, seriously, please be alive. Even if it’s to critique this chapter and tell me I’ve lost my touch (especially the last scene. I’m actually most terrified of sharing that one with you, like you’ll read it and not love me anymore because of my lameness...lol).
> 
> For EVERYONE who has waited patiently for the update, I will babble no further.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is, the epilogue. It's embarrassingly and inexcusably late but here it is at last.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic, if you do, please go on over to Fanfiction.net and PM TheFauxMe and let her know.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Blaine looked up at the building in front of him with a sigh. It didn't loom like it had all those months ago, nor did he feel trepidation or uncertainty nipping at his heels simply at the prospect of walking in. William McKinley High was, instead, standing before him as nothing more than an ordinary high school, but it now housed a number of memories—some unsettling, some extraordinarily happy—and Blaine realized with startling clarity that he was actually going to miss the place.

It was hard to believe that he had made it to graduation, especially after such a rocky start. But the last year had seemingly flown by in a direct contrast to its precursor.

"B, dude, we made it!" Sam exclaimed happily, slinging his robe-clad arm across Blaine's shoulders and pressing a short kiss to the brunette's temple. "How awesome do you feel right now?"

They'd completed the ceremony about a half hour earlier and now families of the graduating class were milling about on the front lawn, taking photos and watching as teenagers embraced, cheered and cried. Due to their closeness in extra-curricular clubs and teams, a number of the previous year's seniors had also resurfaced to cheer on this year's graduates, making it seem as though there were swarms more teenagers than there should be.

Blaine pressed himself against Sam's chest, grinning. "Pretty awesome," he admitted, craning his neck to gaze into his boyfriend's eyes. "I was just thinking, there was a time when I didn't think it would end this way. Happily, I mean."

Sam was silent for a bit. "I'm glad you didn't go for the whole early graduation-slash-college admittance thing," he said, "I mean, you probably wasted your brain power or whatever by staying the extra however many months, but...y'know...I woulda' missed you."

"And I would have missed you too, Sam. Not that I only stuck around for you, of course."

Sam snorted at the teasing comment, "Of course," he nodded dutifully.

They had argued about it for weeks when Sam had discovered Blaine was ditching early admittance to stay in high school. Blaine had tried to use his prominent positions on the lacrosse and football teams, as well as in New Directions and various other clubs, as his justification for seeing the year out, but Sam felt as though he was the reason Blaine was holding himself back. Eventually, during a week where Blaine held all sexual acts ransom in order for Sam to actually stop and listen to him, Blaine was able to convince the blond that it didn't matter why he had made the decision, it was still his choice to make and he was happy with it.

Though suitably chastised, this didn't stop Sam from occasionally dropping the odd snark about it into conversation.

Blaine rolled his eyes and smacked his boyfriend's chest lightly. "I'm serious. If I had left, I never would have seen or, more importantly, taken part in the ass-whooping we gave Dalton across the board. I needed that, Sam."

"Dudes, talkin' about asses and needing it out here in the open? Tsk, tsk...what would your parents say?" Puck leered as he sauntered up, winking as some cheerleader passed them by. He and Lauren were in the 'off again' phase of their usual cycle, what with Lauren having graduated the previous year and Puck having to repeat.

Sam rolled his eyes while Blaine replied dryly, "Mine'd probably say: 'What the hell are we doing in Lima? Has hell frozen over?' Or something."

Blaine's emancipation had also officially gone through that year, and Sam had been there every step of the way, much to the brunet's relief. Though he had tried to maintain emotional indifference, the last face-off against the Andersons had driven him into a mild depression where his mind constantly circled over the question: why wasn't he good enough?

If it hadn't been for Sam and the Evans family, and the odd circle of friends he'd accumulated at McKinley, Blaine might still have felt broken by his parents' dismissal. But they'd all—with the added assistance of a court ordered therapist—gradually helped Blaine to realize that the issue was not his, but his parents'. He still had moments of melancholy, but he found that he had achieved his closure where his parents were concerned, and he was now comfortable enough to joke about them.

Puck reached out and gave his teammate a fist-bump. He was no stranger to the dead beat parent scenario himself. "Fuck 'em, Anderson."

Blaine nodded his agreement, and that was all that had to be said. He was glad to have made a friend of other jock after all the drama of the previous year. He'd taken Puck's words to heart and had made a concerted effort to not hold himself above the other guys on the team, and had found that—with the notable exception of Lipoff and Surette both of whom had graduated the previous year—they were actually a pretty cool group of guys. He wasn't close to them like he was with his Glee-mates, but they had encouraged him to try out for the football team and had invited him around to a couple of video game marathons (wherein he'd learned that he sucked at Halo but rocked at CoD. Go figure.) He was actually kind of pleased to learn that he'd be seeing a couple of them around his college campus the next Fall, even if they'd be in different classes.

"You comin' to Señorita Loca's party tonight?" Puck asked, shaking Blaine from his musings. "I heard you guys blew off last year's party to blow each other, or whatever, but this is our last one. And, okay, I know that technically last year was her last one 'coz she graduated or whatever, but this will be the official last one, y'know?"

"Why, Puckerman, I didn't know you cared," Blaine teased, used to Puck's vulgarity by now. "Are you trying to say that you'll miss us?"

Puck shook his head and gave Sam a look. "You've been letting him hang out with Hummel too much. He's starting to talk like him. Rein your girlfriend in, Evans, before he turns in to our resident Princess. One is bad enough."

Sam laughed. "Kurt's a little possessive. I think he'd knife me if tried to get in between that friendship."

"Knife? Oh, honey, no. Too pedestrian," the boy in question said as he joined the group, Finn following him over and bumping fists with Sam and Puck, then, after a moment's hesitation, Blaine. Kurt kept speaking, "I think I'd make a shiv out of a nail file or something. Or put Nair in your conditioner."

Sam's hands flew to his head, his eyes widening in horror. "Not the hair, dude. Too far."

Blaine just shook his head and accepted a hug from Kurt, the first friend he'd made when he came to McKinley. Outside of Sam, Kurt was the person he was closest to. He'd miss him when they all went their separate ways for college. Thank God for things like Facebook and Skype.

"So what are we talking about, gentlemen?" Kurt asked the odd little group in general, his arm hooked into Blaine's.

"Santana's grad party and whether these two ladies will grace us with their presence this year," Puck answered.

Kurt gave Sam and Blaine each an imploring look. "You have to come! Last year, Rachel got wasted and climbed onto the dining room table and proceeded to howl love songs across the room at Finn who, at that point, was making out with Quinn...and when that failed, she spent the rest of the night alternating between crying and vomiting. I need back up to make sure this won't happen again. I refuse to sacrifice another pair of designer shoes to little miss diva's inability to hold her liquor or emotions."

Blaine laughed while Sam addressed Finn, "But I thought you and Rach were dating again?"

Before the tall teen could answer, Kurt explained, "My brother the _genius_ —" his tone said he thought Finn was anything but, "broke up with her last night."

There were a chorus of groans from the other boys. Finn bristled.

"She got into NYADA this year," he defended with a frown, "as of next week, she's gonna be living in New York and I'm still gonna be stuck here in Lima. As if that was ever gonna work."

Rachel hadn't nailed her audition the previous year and had spent her first year out of school doing everything possible to get into her dream college as a late admittance while enjoying the extra time she could spend with her boyfriend. Finn hadn't made a secret of how pleased he had been that she had been stuck in Lima with him post graduation after all, and they had all thought the couple were making plans to head to New York together.

"But you dumped her before Santana's party? Even I think that's a dick move, Bro." Puck was the first to jump in, surprising the others. Then he added, "But if it means that there's another hot Jewish princess back on the market, and on the rebound, I can't really complain..." He paused, seemingly distracted by something, a slow smirk creeping across his face. "And on that note, I'm gonna run." He'd just spied his mother talking to the very subject of their conversation. "Catch ya at the party, losers."

It took Finn a moment to catch on to the implications of Puck's statement as he followed the mohawked boy's gaze, reaching out and taking hold of his shoulder as he began his retreat. "What? No, dude. You can't go after Rachel."

"The hell not? She's a hot single Jew, I'm a hot single Jew..."

"Because...because...You just _can't_!"

The other three watched in amusement as Puck sauntered off, Finn following and nagging him.

"Sometimes, I worry about him," Kurt said with exaggerated concern.

They continued to talk and banter as though this wasn't the last time they'd be together at school doing just that until Sam's family approached. Sam's dad put himself between Sam and Blaine and slung an arm over each boy's shoulder, giving them a simultaneous shake.

"Congratulations, boys!" He grinned. "High school is officially over."

Mary offered them each a gentle smile, her hands grasping her two younger children's. "My baby's all grown up!"

"Aww, mom!" Sam groaned, but everyone could tell it was in fun.

"We're so proud of both of you boys," she continued as though he hadn't spoken, "and you're both going away to college…"

Surprising both Dwight and Mary, the boys had chosen to attend separate colleges based on the courses they had each gotten into. They'd be separated by a drive of a couple of hours, so wouldn't see each other as regularly as they would like, but Blaine had argued that neither of them should choose a degree that they didn't really want just for the sake of living closer to—or even with—their boyfriend.

It had taken a lot of convincing, but eventually Sam agreed that their futures were more important than their current dating life. Considering neither boy had originally thought they'd be attending college (Blaine for financial reasons and Sam for academic), they were both excited to make the most of the experience. And they'd spend most weekends together anyway.

"Does this mean I can have Sam's room?" Stevie asked with a grin. His own was the smallest in the house and, though he hadn't cared when Sam was living with them, he thought it'd be cool to have a bigger space that had already been decorated by a teenager.

Sam laughed and lunged at his younger doppelgänger, messing up the smaller blond's hair. "I'm not even out the door yet and you're already taking over my spot, huh? And what's wrong with your room now, anyway?"

"Duh," the kid responded cheekily. "Your room's bigger. Plus, once you're gone, I become the man of the house. Well, after Dad."

"Those are big shoes to fill, Little Man," Dwight said with a smile.

Stevie looked down at Sam's sneakers solemnly and nodded, causing everyone else to laugh.

-?-

"Oomph!" Blaine exhaled as he was pushed back into a wall. His arms immediately pulled his attacker towards him. He smirked a little and teased, "Someone's impatient tonight."

Sam chuckled, "Like you haven't been deliberately turning me on since we got here."

Santana's party was in full swing, and they had already made the rounds and chatted with all their friends, Sam even allowing Kurt his 'last chance to dirty dance' (Kurt's words) with Blaine. The music Santana had chosen was a bizarre mix of graduation-themed songs, Spanish pop and some of the most filthy club music Sam had ever heard (and there had been a brief time where he'd considered taking on stripping as a job, so it wasn't as if he hadn't come across a few dirty songs before).

After a few drinks (they were taking a cab back to Blaine's so they could both indulge), Sam had become acutely aware of the fact that his boyfriend was wearing his tightest pair of jeans. Worse still, he'd noticed that Blaine was starting to do a little…interpretive dancing…when the more risqué lyrics began to echo across Santana's lounge room. When the brunet had somehow materialised an ice block that was rather phallic by nature, and had started to lick at it in an incredibly distracting manner, Sam had decided that enough was enough.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaine replied, his tone coy and his eyes rounded with faux-innocence.

Sam laughed again and pressed himself against his boyfriend, kissing at the lips that had so recently pushed him beyond distraction. He could still taste the frozen, saccharine, fake lemonade flavour on Blaine's tongue. "Sure you don't," he managed as he pulled back a bit, feeling amused and aroused by the pout on Blaine's face.

"Hey, gay boys, get a room already," Santana cried as she passed by, grinning. "And if it's gonna be my room, watch out for the webcam. Britts likes to film things, y'know." She paused and turned back to face them. "On second thought…"

"No, Santana," Sam shook his head with a smile, "You're not filming us having sex."

She sighed. "Spoil sport. Bet I coulda' made a lot of money with a tape like that. Coulda' called it 'Two Hot Jocks' or 'Broke Boys Mountin'' or 'Two Guys, No Girl and No Pizza Place'."

Blaine, in a testament to how much he'd had to drink, giggled. "I like the last one."

Sam shook his head with a fond smile. "So I'm pretty sure that's our cue to head home. Great party, Santana." Despite their differences the previous year, they really had all kinda bound back together for the end, and Santana had made an effort to be nicer one she'd graduated for Brittany's—who was still going to be at school for a year—sake. He really would miss Señorita Loca, even if he never wanted to date her again.

Her face fell for a moment as she appeared to sober. "Can't believe it's really the last one." She'd stayed in Lima for Brittany, deferring her first year of college to earn a bit of cash and make sure nobody took advantage of the easily-swayed blonde in her supposed absence. Now that Britt had graduated and they could move on together, this truly would be the last party she threw for their high school experience.

"Pfft," he replied dismissively, waving the hand that wasn't wrapped around his boyfriend, "for high school maybe. But I get the feeling we'll have a few reunion parties for sure."

She brightened and nodded. "Hells yeah we will. I refuse to let someone like Berry arrange those festivities." Her eyes caught sight of the girl in question and she started to move in her direction, hollering, "Hey, Manhands! I'm in control of the reunion shit, capisce?"

Rachel looked like a deer in headlights as Santana wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around her wrist and dragged her off, presumably to lecture her all about the parties that Rachel would not be throwing.

Sam watched them go and let out a fond chuckle before he turned back to Blaine. "So," he began, his voice dropping an octave, and he pressed his boyfriend back into the wall, allowing his hips to undulate to the beat of Nine Inch Nails' Closer. Blaine ground back against him, his hands making their way under the back of Sam's shirt. Sam smirked and brought his lips to the shell of the other boys ear, whispering roughly, "back to your place?"

Blaine shivered at the sensation (cursing Sam for knowing exactly which of his buttons to press) and nodded eagerly. " _Uh huh_ ," he agreed emphatically, even as he closed his eyes and pulled Sam even closer still, his hips seeking more delicious friction.

Sam's own eyes slid shut and he enjoyed the frottage a little while longer, mouthing at the exposed skin at the junction of Blaine's neck and shoulder, only pulling away reluctantly when a strangled sound of arousal from the back of Blaine's throat jolted him enough to recall that they were not in a private setting. "We should probably call a taxi," he said by way of explanation when Blaine's accusatory glare landed on him.

Taking a moment to collect himself, the brunet nodded. "I guess," he acknowledged, even though he wanted nothing more than to say 'Fuck it' and rut against his boyfriend, here in a darkened corner of Santana's house, until they both came. He was still sober enough, though, to realise that that wouldn't be smart. "Santana'd probably make good on her threat and I don't want to be an internet porn sensation."

Sam laughed and fished his phone from his pocket, dialing for a cab and bringing it to his ear. While he waited for an operator, he answered his beau, "Hell no. Nobody's allowed to see your dick but me…Oh! Sorry!" He blushed a deep red and Blaine assumed the operator had caught the tail end of Sam's alcohol aided lack of inhibitions.

He couldn't contain his giggles while Sam—still bright pink—gave the address details to the person on the other end of the line. Sam couldn't get off the phone fast enough. Taking pity on his embarrassed boyfriend, Blaine took his hand and wound Sam's arm around his waist. "While we're waiting for the cab, tell me more about the things that only you're allowed to do," he demanded quietly, "and when we get back to my place I might just let you do them."

Sam was suitably distracted from his embarrassment instantly.

-?-

The cab ride back seemed to take forever, and the many flights of stairs weren't really appreciated by either boy either (though, after Blaine bounded in front of him just to show off his spectacular ass in those tight jeans, Sam repeated a little history and swooped his giggling boyfriend off his feet, carrying him up towards their Fortress of Solitude.)

Once inside, they made short work of divesting their clothing (Sam still grumbling about the struggle of getting Blaine out of those sinfully tight pants of his) and kissed their way to the bed, the back of Sam's calves connecting with the mattress before he fell backwards, pulling Blaine down with him.

"Gonna miss this," Blaine confessed in a whisper before he started planting languid, slightly sloppy kisses in a trail down Sam's jaw, then his neck and collarbone.

Sam's left hand moved of its own accord to the back of Blaine's lightly gelled mop of hair. "Uh huh," he agreed, his eyes drifting shut as the kisses morphed somewhat into an exploration of his body by Blaine's tongue. His right hand moved down between them to grasp at himself when the brunette gave his nipple a teasing lick. " _Definitely_ gonna miss this."

Blaine shook his head, pulling away for a moment—long enough for Sam to open his eyes and meet his gaze, abandoning his own ministrations at the brief melancholy expression that passed over the brunette's features. "Not just the sex," Blaine clarified, "This. This place. Us. I mean, this is like the first place…the only place…where we've ever been just us, y'know?"

Sam couldn't help the tender smile that pulled at his lips, and he gave the room a brief glance. It hadn't been much, but it had been Blaine's first real home and he had made it perfect. The memories they'd shared here were wonderful—from simply bantering and gaming, to the first time they'd had sex, and all the things in between—and Sam had to admit that he would be sad to leave it behind.

"We'll have someplace like this again," the blonde told his boyfriend with absolute certainty. He knew that statistically most high school relationships didn't last, especially when they were separated by State borders, but in that moment he knew, he just knew, that he and Blaine weren't going to be just another statistic. "I promise, B."

Blaine looked for a moment as though he would argue and list all the reasons why he shouldn't be making such a promise, but the expression was fleeting and replaced by a bright smile. "I'll hold you to that," he said, before pulling himself back up to draw Sam into a deep kiss that had them both distracted before long.

The discussion was soon forgotten (especially once Blaine did that thing with his tongue that was always guaranteed to have Sam seeing stars, and then Sam was _inside_ Blaine and all concentration was spent on prolonging the experience until its inevitable—but euphoric—conclusion), but the words were not. Eventually, within weeks of them each graduating college, Sam saw through his teen-aged promise, signing his name with a flourish beside Blaine's own on a lease for a small apartment on the outskirts of LA.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" Sam offered cheekily after they had been handed the keys and found themselves standing outside the door.

Blaine shot him a vaguely amused grin and shook his head, turning the handle and stepping in to the small, barren space. No, it didn't look like much, but it was so much like The Fortress that he thought it was perfect for them, and worth the last few years of strain, separation and frustration. There had been times he had thought they wouldn't make it, even a few months there at the beginning where they had broken up and each been completely miserable and unwilling to date anyone else, but stepping into their first apartment together felt exactly as it should.

It felt like coming home.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the official end. I'm sorry it's taken so long. I've officially run out of steam when it comes to Glee (I've not seen the final season either and I don't particularly want to). I miss my co-writers. A lot. And not only for the writing & the motivation they provided, but for the friendship & the chats. It's ridiculous that you can be so affected by someone you've never actually met, but there it is.
> 
> Maybe I'll come back to the Glee fandom one day (if gBw ever resurfaces, I will try to talk him into finishing A Matchless Match, because it was ever so fun to write with him, and I hate leaving things unfinished) but I doubt it.
> 
> It's only my OCD need to finish things that has driven me to complete this and I genuinely hope you enjoy it. I also hope that it still flows with the rest of the story preceding it as I'm a little rusty and haven't gone back to read it all. It doesn't tie up everything, but reality is like that.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me. It's been fun.


End file.
